


Last Choice Liars

by JustRamblinOn



Series: Liar, Liar [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/M, Infertility, Merle's still alive too, Miscarriage, Non linear storytelling, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Shane lives (obviously), Suicidal Thoughts, Tagged explicit for domestic violence themes, bartender/street artist reader, im shit at tagging I’ll add more as needed, multiple POVs, past drug abuse, reader is a Dixon, what can I say I like my Dixon boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-01-31 02:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 80
Words: 260,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRamblinOn/pseuds/JustRamblinOn
Summary: Last call means choices. You and Shane Walsh have made quite a few last call choices over the years, some good and some bad, but all of them lead you to where you were right now- together, happy, and part of a community being rebuilt from the ashes of humanity's own, extremely bloody and violent, version of last call. Unfortunately, not everyone wanted to see the world being rebuilt, or at least not the same way you did. Time for more of those last call choices, and hell- last call makes liars out of everyone, doesn't it?Some choices shape you. Some shape the world around you. And some destroy everything in their path.Sequel to Last Call Liars, part two of the Liar, Liar series
Relationships: Shane Walsh/Original Female Character(s), Shane Walsh/Reader, Shane Walsh/You
Series: Liar, Liar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544500
Comments: 729
Kudos: 112





	1. Lie #1: “Yeah, I’m Happy” - Ace

**Author's Note:**

> We're back with part two! 
> 
> Hope you guys are excited to continue Shane and Ace's adventures, cause I know I am. This will continue to employ non linear storytelling and flashbacks, as well as bouncing perspectives between Shane and Ace. 
> 
> I love you all, and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> XOXO, JustRamblinOn

“Ace! Someone asked for a drink and I have no idea what it is.” 

You lifted an eyebrow at Julie and took another drag from your cigarette. “Tell Jason. I’m on break, girl.” 

She rolled her eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh. “He said to ask you.” 

You groaned. “Fine. Lay it on me.” You shoved off from the wall, putting your half-finished cigarette out against the brick. The whiskey label mural needed a touch up, you noticed. You scooped your hair back up, scraping it into a bun and bracing yourself to head back into the Friday night chaos.

“An Island in a Storm Tossed Sea?” Julie sounded more like she was asking than telling, her face scrunched up as if she were trying to remember it correctly and couldn't. 

You snorted, feeling the smile start unbidden. “A Lonely Island In the Middle of A Stormy Sea?” 

“That’s the bitch! Do you know it?” 

“I know of exactly one asshole who would come in here and order it,” you told her with a laugh, heading for the door. Inside, you scanned the bar until you caught sight of him, sitting at a high top table by himself with a beer in front of him and his eyes roving the place alertly. You chewed on your lip and turned to Julie, who'd followed you in. 

"That's Shane," you told her. "He's a cop. We, ah." 

"Oh my God, you hooked up," Julie said, eyes wide. "But you're-"

"It was last week. Last Thursday, before Mal came crawling back. And Shane and I didn’t even exchange numbers or anything. It was just a one night stand," you muttered, feeling yourself blush under her scrutiny. 

Shane chose that moment to pick up and sip from his beer, and Julie sighed. "He has got some serious muscles. Like, do you see those arms?" 

Your lips twitched and you couldn't help the flash of memory that had you biting your lip again. Oh yeah, Shane had some muscles, that's for sure. And he'd used them, much to your delight last week. "Yeah. Yeah, I've seen them. He's fucking strong." 

Julie slapped a hand over her mouth and giggled at your wink and wicked grin. "Should I send him to the bar?" 

You shrugged. "Up to you. He tips well. Tell him he can have a goddamn Sam Addams and like it, and see what he says. Or, better yet, take him one and tell him it's his Lonely Island." 

You turned and pulled one on draft and handed it to her. She gave you an odd look but shrugged and headed that way, and you hid in the kitchen doorway as she delivered it to Shane. He grinned and laughed, his eyes panning the bar as he searched for you. You stepped out of the doorway and waved, and he lifted the Sam Addams in a salute. 

"Ace! Shots, babe!" Jason called from up the bar. You rolled your eyes and nodded, reaching for the Bailey's with one last smile Shane's way. 

You were surprised by how pleased you were to see him, considering you'd broken your rule about taking customers home for him and then hadn't talked to him for a week. Thing was, you'd liked the guy- genuinely liked him. If it hadn't been for the hefty dose of awkward you'd experienced the next morning, you might have given him your number. As it was, you hadn't seen him since he'd left you with a kiss and a promise to see you on the other side of the bar some time, and that had been a week ago. You and Mal had gotten back together in that time, and you figured you'd been just a notch on Shane's bedpost. 

And you'd been fine with it, really. You hadn't been looking for anything with him; hadn't even really thought taking him home through very much before you did it. But here he was, and as you mixed drinks you watched Julie help him move to the spot at the end of the bar near the computer. As soon as his back was to the wall he seemed to relax, and you could feel his eyes on you as you grabbed the lighter and the line of shots went up with a whoosh. 

It was probably a half hour before you could make your way back down the bar to him. You hopped up and started punching stuff into the computer, talking as your fingers flew over the POS screen. 

"Hey, Walsh. Wasn't expecting to see you again." 

"Yeah, that's my fault. I meant to leave you my number, but when Carl called I got all mixed up. Then it was a crazy freakin' week. First night I ain't pulled a double since Sunday," he said. 

You glanced over at him and realized he did look fucking exhausted. "Christ, that sucks, man." 

"Eh. Shit happens," he said with a shrug. "Especially when you're a cop. How you been? You're hopping tonight." 

You snorted. "This is fairly light for a Friday. Been pretty good. Mal came crawling back." 

"Yeah?" 

Another look his way showed Shane actually seeming as interested as he sounded, and not like someone who was afraid his chances of getting lucky had just tanked. But like a friend, who was genuinely curious how you'd been since he saw you last. You smiled. "Yeah. I figured he would. We're back together." 

"You happy?" He lifted the beer to his lips again and you paused, surprised. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm happy," you said slowly. "Why?" 

He shrugged. "If you're happy, I'm happy. Didn't come back just to see if you would take me home again. Wasn't opposed to it, mind. But I like you, Ace. I enjoyed hanging out with you the other night. Figured I'd do it again, if you're cool with it. Plus, this is a pretty great joint. I know this bartender here, makes a mean Lonely Island In the Middle of a Stormy Sea." 

You grinned and reached for a Valhalla mug, pulling him another Sam Addams. "Yeah, I know that bartender too. She's fucking awesome. I liked hanging with you, Officer Dickhead." 

"Oh, we're gonna have to work on the nickname there, Slugger," he said with a grimace. 

"Slugger?" 

"You heard me." 

Judith started babbling in her pack'n'play and you cracked an eye at the clock on the shelf across from your bunk. Six thirty in the morning was way too damn early to be awake, in your opinion. Shane shifted, his groan echoing oddly in the ear you had against his chest. 

"Already?" he whispered as he scrubbed a hand across his eyes. 

You lifted your head to see her sitting up in her crib and looking at you. She broke into a smile when she saw you look at her and started babbling and cooing. 

“Morning, Judy,” you told her seriously. “You’re up early.” 

She waved her hands in the air with an emphatic string of nonsense, and you smiled at her. Shane groaned again, and you shoved up to your elbow to look down at him and run your fingers down his cheek. He was rubbing one hand over his eyes like being awake was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. You snorted. “Told you not to stay up so late playing with Rick and Glenn and my idiot brother.” 

“Can you not say it like that?” he said with a frown. “We weren’t playin’.” 

“No? Then what do you call it?” 

He pulled his hand off his eyes to scowl at you. “Planning. For this place. You know, to keep it running.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “There’s a whole damn Council that meets regularly for planning purposes. You boys were involved in an incredibly sexist game of poker with condoms as chips again and we both know it.” 

“Why the hell would I be involved in that? I don’t gamble,” Shane argued. He sat up on the edge of the bed and shoved his hands through his hair as he denied it, and you rolled your eyes behind his back. 

You leaned forward and kissed his shoulder. “No, you don’t gamble well. They see right through you, Walsh, and so do I. You’re a terrible liar. Plus, Glenn told me about your boys-only game when I ran into him sneaking out of the tower with his and Maggie's industrial sized box of condoms.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, shoving to his feet and scooping Judith up. “So we played poker. It was fun, it was sexist, and I ain't sorry. Come on, baby girl. Let’s leave your aunt Ace to her gloating and go find some breakfast, huh? What d’ya say?” 

“You love me and you know it, Dickhead,” you called to him as you curled up in the space he’d vacated. 

“‘Course I do, Slugger. Shut up and go back to sleep. Got that run with Daryl this afternoon.” 

An hour or so later, you snagged a denim jacket from the hooks Shane had installed on the cell wall and ducked under the curtain. You'd be on the bike with Daryl today, and he'd insist you had more protection than just a flannel when you rode. You stifled a laugh when you saw Daryl coming down the stairs, crossbow over his shoulder and annoyed look already in place, his eyes tight and tired looking. 

"Morning," you greeted him. "How'd you fair in poker last night, you sexist asshole?" 

He rolled his eyes at you. "Shut up. I won." 

"Of course you did. What'd you idiots bet though? Condoms might have been the chips but unless you've got a girlfriend I don't know about, you wouldn't need those," you teased, bumping his shoulder as you fell in step with him. Both of you paused to check the map at the same time. No one had added anything new since last night, and Daryl grabbed a green post it, scrawled 'Big Spot Run' and both your names on it, and slapped it under the chart with the names of everyone in C Block that was now beside your map. It wasn't required to mark where you were headed when you left the prison, but everyone did it anyway, just to better keep tabs on your little family. 

Daryl snorted as he did, shooting you an amused look. "Wouldn't ya like to know, sis? Ain't nothin' to worry about." 

"Great," you muttered, heading for the door. "That's not worrisome at all." 

Calls of "Hey Daryl!" "Morning, Daryl, Ace!" "Hey, Dixons!" echoed as you headed into the courtyard together. You squinted in the morning sunlight and called greetings in return while Daryl tried to pretend he wasn't beloved by everyone here. Carol had a serious face, but her eyes danced as the two of you stepped up to her outdoor kitchen. 

"Just so you know, I liked you first," she informed Daryl dryly. 

You laughed when Daryl rolled his eyes. You waved to Patrick, who waved back shyly, and scanned the courtyard for Shane. You saw Beth with Judith, feeding her a bottle, and wondered what crisis had gotten to Shane already today. 

"Stop. Smells good." Daryl tossed his hair a little as Carol handed you both bowls. "You know, Rick brought in a lot of 'em." 

"Not recently," Carol said with a shrug. "Give the stranger shelter, feed him; you're going to have to accept the love." 

"Darrie doesn't exactly accept love easily," you teased, kissing your brother on the cheek when he turned his scowl on you. "I'm gonna find Shane. Meet you at the bike in a bit." 

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get distracted fuckin' him. If ya late, I'm leavin' ya here." 

"That's delightful. I have no idea why everyone thinks you're so great," you muttered, rolling your eyes and heading inward toward the second courtyard. Once upon a time, the thing had been overrun with walkers, and you'd lost a good friend trying to secure the gate against them. Now, it was more living space, full of plants, rain barrels, laundry lines, and tables, including the one where Shane usually ended up sitting and handling Council and prison business left and right. You had a feeling that's where he'd be. 

"Maggie!" you called, rising from Shane's lap when she came around the corner. He made an annoyed sound- you'd been pretty heavily involved in making out, after all, and maybe Daryl hadn't been totally wrong to worry about you getting distracted- but he let you up anyway. 

Maggie's lips twitched in amusement, everyone well used to you and Shane and PDA by now. Hell, she and Glenn were even worse than the two of you, not that she wanted to admit it. "Mornin', Ace. Shane. You know, there's better spots for makin' out and shit." 

"Yeah, well, he was here and so was I," you countered cheerfully. "You and Glenn coming with us this afternoon?" 

"Glenn is. I'm stayin' here," she said, and something in the way she said it had you narrowing your eyes at her. 

"Yeah?" 

She tossed her head and sighed. "Yeah. Glenn's come over all protective all the sudden. Well, not all the sudden I guess, but still." 

You shot a look behind you at Shane, well and truly intrigued. "I'll see you this afternoon, hero. Maggie and I are gonna go trash talk you boys before I leave." 

"Whatever you say, Slugger," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Be careful, please?" 

You bent and kissed him again, your hand lingering on his cheek. "I'm always careful." 

"Sure. That's why you got that damn rusty nail in your fuckin' foot last month and we had to send Doc S to find a tetanus booster," Shane said with a scowl. 

You looked down your nose at him and flipped him off. "That could have happened to anyone, thank you very much." 

"Only if 'anyone' was barefoot on the goddamn roof of the administrative building and hanging over the side of it trying to paint 'that one spot, Dickhead; I just couldn't reach it'." 

You sighed. You supposed that was fair; it had been one of your dumber moments. "Ok, fine. I promise to be careful. I love you." 

"I love you too," he said with a soft smile. "Now go insult me some behind my back with Maggie and then play with your brother. Bring me back something interesting." 

You were grinning as you wandered off with Maggie, plotting what kind of 'interesting' find you could bring for Shane. You were hoping for a truly hideously ugly shirt you could hold out to him and declare with perfect seriousness would look fantastic on him. He'd gotten you damn good on his last run, coming back with a bar of fancy soap. You'd been in the damn shower together before you realized he'd coated the thing in clear nail polish so it wouldn't lather. He'd howled, you'd bitched, and then you'd engaged in some other fun shower activities instead. 

"You two are so cute it makes me sick," Maggie declared. 

You laughed. "Some days," you agreed. "Now why's Glenn being an overprotective idiot? Did he hang out with my brother and Shane too long last night and pick up their bad habits?" 

She sighed and fiddled with the wedding ring on her finger, staring out into space at the walkers building up on the fence. "No. I mean, yes, but-" She met your eyes and looked worried. "I think I'm pregnant." 

"What?" you yelped, and she shushed you with a look around. 

"Shut up, Ace! You can't tell anyone until I know for sure. I just- I'm late, and..." she trailed off and shrugged. "He wants me to stay behind. So I am." 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips even as your heart twisted a little. Not being able to have kids was a dull ache deep in your soul you didn't think would ever go away, especially now that you had Shane. Seeing him with Judith made you wish you could see him with a little one of your own, but you'd had a long time to adjust to knowing you'd never be a mom. And if any couple deserved a munchkin, it was Maggie and Glenn Rhee. 

"Maggie, that's amazing news. If you think so, that is," you added, since she still looked worried. 

She was staring at Glenn now, where he loaded supplies into the truck with Sasha and Tyreese, Zach, and Daryl. Bob walked up, a newcomer Daryl had brought in a week ago who'd been an army medic, and you figured he'd be going with you as well. That was cool; you could use all the hands you could get since Shane had shorted you the coal crew to handle buildup on the fences instead. You guessed keeping walkers from tearing them down and invading the place was important and all. 

Maggie looked back at you now and her own smile was small but bright. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. It might be. If I am. I just had to tell somebody," she added with a chuckle. 

You grabbed her in a quick hug. "I'm glad you did. Need a test or anything?" 

"If you see one, it'd be nice. Don't advertise it, though. Glenn's keeping an eye out too." 

You nodded. "Of course. I'll keep an eye on him as well." 

Maggie smiled again. "All of you be careful." 

"Ace, come on, damn it!"

You were on the back of the bike with Daryl, your tiny convoy getting ready to head out after some friendly bickering, a few threats, and one last goodbye kiss for Maggie and Glenn when you saw them standing at the gate with Rick and Carl. You squealed loud enough that Daryl flinched away from you. 

“Shit, sis. Settle down, damn it,” he muttered. “Some of us like our fuckin’ eardrums.” 

“Asshole. Your brother’s home; get excited!” 

“Why?” He demanded. “Just means we gotta deal with his ass now too. Shit.” 

You rolled your eyes at him behind his back and waved toward Merle and Michonne. They waved back and you knew you were grinning like a fool as Daryl cruised to a stop.

They’d been out on a three week haul this time and they were home early. The two of them made an unlikely team- especially since Merle had tried to fucking kill Michonne when they met- but they worked damn well together out there for all their bickering. So well you privately thought there might be something there. Then again, you caught the way Michonne sometimes looked at Rick, and the way Rick sometimes looked at Michonne. 

Like they were looking at each other now, you thought. You bit your lip and hopped off the bike to hug your brother, eyeing him and Michonne critically. 

“You two need to shower. You’re disgusting,” you declared. 

“Nice to see you too, little sister. Where ya headed off too?" Merle demanded. 

"Hittin' the Big Spot," Daryl said with a jerk of his head. "Want in?" 

Michonne looked considering, and you grinned when Rick shot her a concerned look. Rick still had you worried at times, but over the last few months, as his plants grew, his mental health seemed to be stabilizing. He didn't leave the prison much anymore, not for more than checking his snares, but he seemed pretty happy with his plants and his pigs. Surrendering control of the group had done wonders for him, even if "Farmer Rick" had been the subject of many frustrated venting sessions from Shane. 

Your Dickhead still didn't think he was much of a leader, no matter how many times he proved otherwise. 

The prison was thriving, damn it. There were Rick's crops. You had pigs and piglets, Michonne and Merle's horses, and there were even rumors of chickens being spotted around and possibly obtained. Carol kept the domestic shit running smoothly, in that incredible way she had of just handling things, and had even started classes and story time for the kids, classes you'd been shanghaied into helping with a few times. Supply runs were organized, Daryl hunted, you covered every available surface of the place in paint. Judith was growing, Carl had stopped carrying a gun and looked a little bit less like a soldier, Beth had a boyfriend, and Hershel had performed three marriage ceremonies in the last month. People were being brought in all the time, and life was looking damn good. 

Shit, you had a bar again. A small one, but still. You'd managed to bully Daryl and Shane into building it for you, an extension of Carol's outdoor kitchen. You hosted a once a week, adults-only night that involved music, drinking, and a non-sexist poker game.

It was almost like the world hadn't really ended or anything.

Then you glanced at the walkers building up on the damn fence again and sighed. Never mind, there's the apocalypse.


	2. Lie #2: “I Was Just Going To Get Up And Leave” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
Minor character death (canon)  
Child abuse

"Army put up the fences," you told the group, leaning against the bike as Daryl walked along it. "Made this a place people could come." 

"When we found it last week there were a ton of walkers up against the chain link, keepin' people out like a bunch of guard dogs," Daryl added. "Clear, Ace." 

"Told you it would work," you said with a shrug.

"So, what, they just left?" Bob asked. 

"Give a listen," Sasha said dryly. 

Music filtered to your ears and Michonne smiled slowly. She chuckled as Daryl came to the gap you'd cut when you were out here last time. 

"You drew them out," she said. "Clever." 

"Hooked up a radio to two car batteries. Darrie, are we going in or are we waiting until Michonne admits she's got a thing for our brother?" you asked, lifting an eyebrow at Michonne. 

She rolled her eyes and said nothing, but the others chuckled. Daryl snorted and shot a look your way.

"Gonna be a long damn time if that's what ya waitin' on, since anyone with eyes can tell she's got a thing for Rick. Besides, why the hell would she like Merle? Nobody fuckin' likes Merle. Merle don't even like Merle." 

You cracked up at that, as did Glenn. Michonne shook her head and drew her sword, ducking through the gap in the fence. 

"Come on, comedians. Let's make a sweep if you're done. You damn Dixons are all the same, aren't you?" she muttered. 

"Pretty much," Daryl agreed. "Make sure it's safe. Grab what ya can. We'll come back tomorrow with more people. Ace, ya with me." 

"Why?" you asked, slightly offended.

"Macho sexist bullshit, sis."

You rolled your eyes and followed Daryl. 

It didn't take long to clear the Army tents. You scooped up a couple of first aid kits to stuff into your pack, since medical was always a priority. Daryl whistled and the others gathered, heading toward the doors of the Big Spot. 

He banged on the window and leaned against it while Zach studied him. You grinned, knowing what was coming next. 

You liked this kid. You'd liked him from the moment he'd met you and Daryl out there three months ago, with his school buddies and his endless babble about their lives while Daryl held the crossbow on him. He hadn't batted an eye at your questions, and he and his friends were fun to talk to. Zach and Beth were, in Daryl's annoyed words, 'like a damn romance novel', too. 

"Alright, I think I've got it," Zach declared. 

"Got what?" Michonne asked, looking between him and Daryl. 

"Oh, I've been trying to guess what Daryl did before the turn." Zach swung his rifle down and went and sat on Daryl's other side. 

"Been trying to guess for like six weeks," Daryl said, sounding disgusted. "Knows what Ace did; don't know why I'm such a damn mystery."

"Because you act all mysterious and grumpy," you informed him. "And I'm easy to figure out. Paint, booze- that's me."

"You're certainly not the open book Ace tends to be. Besides, I'm pacing myself. One shot a day," Zach said.

You wondered what Shane would have to say about you being an open book, what with the way he often got frustrated by how you didn’t talk about the past. Not the real stuff, the heavy stuff. Map and Will and all that shit.

"Shoot, then," Daryl muttered. 

Michonne was grinning openly now, knowing full well like you did what Daryl had done- he’d followed Merle around, fixed cars, and generally wasted his abundance of talent on your shithead brother’s drug problems. Zach looked from her to you and winked at you. 

"Aight, well. The way you are at the prison, you being on the Council, you're able to track. You're helping people. But you're still kind of, uh… surly." 

You started laughing and Daryl flipped you off without taking his eyes from the fences. "He's always surly. He's been surly since he was born." 

"How would you know? Ya younger'n me." 

"Five minutes, Darrie. Five minutes."

Michonne snorted. "Alright, come on, I want to hear his guess." 

"Big swing here," Zach said when you and Daryl fell silent. "Homicide cop." 

You and Michonne cracked up at the same time, you sliding down the wall to lay flat on the ground you were laughing so hard. Daryl sighed. 

"Man's right," he said, sending you into fresh peals of laughter. "Undercover." 

"Dude, come on, really?" Zach asked, eyes wide as he stared from Daryl’s dead-serious face to where you could barely breathe from laughing so damn hard. 

"No!" you managed. "Do not listen to him. He was never a cop. He and Merle hate cops. Ironic, considering." 

"Oh, your brother loathes cops," Michonne agreed with a roll of her eyes. "Loudly and very vocally." 

"But-" Zach started, pointing at you. "You and-" 

"Me and Shane? Yes, a constant thorn in Merle's side," you agreed cheerfully, dragging yourself to your feet. "Hey, Dar, company." 

Walkers slammed into the window behind Daryl's head and he didn't even turn to look. 

"We gonna do this, Detective?" Michonne asked, and you sniggered again. 

You took the crossbow Daryl held out without a word as he pulled his knife, going in with Michonne and her sword to take down the two walkers that had made it to the front. You covered them while Bob eyed you. 

"You know how to use that thing?" Bob asked, nodding at the bow in your hands. 

You made a face. "Why is everyone so surprised by that? I grew up with Daryl and Merle. Yeah, I know how to use this thing." 

"Cain't draw it, though," Daryl grunted as he hauled a body out. "Guess I’ll keep it." 

"Gladly," you agreed, passing it over. "Stay in formation for the sweep, newbies," you informed Zach, Tyreese, and Bob. They all seemed competent enough, but they hadn't come out on runs before. You, Glenn, Sasha, Daryl, and Michonne were used to this nonsense. "Then we've all got lists."

"Let's do it," Daryl declared, and you followed at his back into the dark, Glock in one hand and knife in the other. 

You wandered the aisles, marveling at the sheer amount of shit humans had once thought they needed to survive, like you did every time you found a store like this. You thought about the tiny cell you and Shane shared, smaller than your bedroom in your apartment in Atlanta, and how all you needed to feel like you were at home was Shane, some art supplies, and one of his worn-out flannel shirts. 

"How did we live with all this crap?" you mumbled to yourself, and headed over toward the food section to finish filling your cart. You'd already hit the baby gear, stocking up on diapers, wipes, jarred purees and formula, and some toys and clothes for Judy. Then you'd picked up some odds and ends, including a box of green hair dye for yourself and some bleach and a box of pale blue for Carl. He'd been talking about wanting to do the ends of his, since he was wearing it long now, and you figured why the hell not? 

The worst that could happen was Rick yelling at you again, like he had the first time you'd dyed Carl's hair. Then he'd had to admit it looked fucking awesome, you thought smugly. 

You passed the wine and beer section before you made it back over to groceries, and you thought about picking up a couple cases and bottles for your next adults only night. But you figured space was limited this run and you had enough to get through at least one more party, so you'd just clear it out when you came back tomorrow with more hands. 

You paused on the wine aisle, seeing Bob examining a label about halfway down the aisle. You left your cart where it was and strolled toward him, moving soundlessly in paint splattered Converses with the ease of practice. He was fully absorbed in the bottle and didn't see you approach, and you studied the shelf with your thumbs hooked in your back pockets. 

"That's a shit label, man," you said critically. "I go with-" 

Bob jumped at the sound of your voice and slammed the bottle down onto the shelf as he looked around frantically. The whole shelf collapsed in a flood of broken glass and spilled wine, and your eyes got wide as you saw the unit begin to tip forward. 

"Shit," you yelled, and shoved Bob out of the way. 

Then the world went dark- well, darker- as something slammed into your head. 

"Ace? Ace? Dammit, sis!" Daryl's voice filtered into your awareness urgently and you groaned. 

"What?" you called, lifting a hand to press it to your throbbing temple. "Shit, Dar, you're so loud." 

"Fuck. Don't scare me like that," he snarled, and the relief under his typical irritation registered and had you opening your eyes slowly. 

Oh, yeah. You'd had a shelf fall on you. It must have knocked you out for a hot minute, since you didn’t remember hitting the floor or know when Daryl had gotten there.

"Ya cut or anything?" Daryl asked. 

"She shoved me out of the way, man; I'm sorry," Bob said from somewhere in the distance. 

"We're in wine and beer!" Michonne called from somewhere to your right. "Shelf fell on Ace. Think she's ok!" 

"I’m fine," you confirmed, and tried to slide out despite the glass everywhere. Being under the shelf was starting to make you feel a little too trapped. 

But of course, you didn't go anywhere, and the pain in your ankle registered over the throbbing in your head. 

"Shit. I'm stuck, Dar. Got my foot caught," you said, huffing in annoyance. "Gonna have to haul this thing off me." 

Daryl nodded. "Aight, lemme take a look. 'Chonne, head around and-" 

Something crashed through the ceiling. You contorted, trying to get a look at it from under the shelf, and heard Glenn's worried voice. 

"Yeah, we should probably go now." 

Walkers started raining from the roof. Daryl's face reappeared, grim and tight, and he shined his flashlight at where your foot was lodged. You followed the light and made a face of your own, wondering just how well the damn thing was going to work when you got it out. 

"Daryl, just go," you said softly as gunfire started echoing in the store. You could hear more walkers falling, and you reached for your brother's hand. "It’s ok. Just go." 

"Like hell," he grunted. "Hang on." 

You looked up at the shelf above you for a moment when he disappeared. "Yeah, I was just going to get up and leave," you muttered. 

Then you found yourself very, very distracted by one curious and snarling walker, heaving half a body hand over hand toward you along the tile floor. Well, shit. 

You fumbled down at your side, but you couldn't quite reach your knife, and goddamn that dead bastard was fast. You saw the bottle instead and grinned, grabbing it by the neck and slamming it onto the floor. 

"Come on then," you told the walker, and jammed the broken glass into the massive slice that had split the skull open and almost reached the brain. Undead hands brushed your arms as you stabbed at it with the glass, finally shoving a shard in far enough that the eyes glazed over in second death and the thing stopped trying to eat you. 

You took a breath and blew it out, already wondering just how in the hell you were going to explain this one to Shane. He was going to fucking kill you. 

"Ace?" Daryl called, and you lifted your hand. 

"Still here," you told him with a wave as he and Zach appeared. They began lifting the shelf off you, and you wiggled your ankle, trying to get it free. "How bad?" 

"Pretty bad," Daryl admitted. "Got it?" 

"Not yet; give me a little more," you grunted. Daryl reached down and hooked you under the arms as Zach got you the last centimeter of space you needed, and your brother slid you out and pulled you to your feet. 

"Aight, let's go, let's go," he called, wrapping an arm around you. You leaned against him heavily, keeping weight off your ankle as much as you could and taking in the disaster this run had turned into.

Your team was gathered, weapons out and bodies on the ground. Sunlight streamed in from holes in the ceiling, looking like the place had been ground zero of a meteor shower. Plus, at one particularly large hole, the support beams were barely keeping aloft- 

"Is that a helicopter?" you asked, staring up at it. 

Zach started screaming.

Will's belt stung like a motherfucker as it lashed into your back and you gritted your teeth to keep from crying out. It was only going to get worse from here, you told yourself grimly. So you'd better just keep it all in. Begging and apologizing wouldn’t stop him, after all; not until he was satisfied. 

You were right, it did only get worse. Three whips later you couldn't contain the strangled noise that slid from you along with the tears that streamed down your cheeks unchecked. The fourth lash caused the scream to rip from you and Will chuckled. 

"Shit, my little ace in the hole, ya used to be tougher'n this. Guess I've let ya get soft, huh. Well, not any longer. Go on, get outta here. Next time do's I say and we won't have to find out how tough ya are," he said, ruffling your hair. 

You pulled yourself cautiously to your feet and felt blood slide down your back. You eyed him suspiciously, but Will was threading his belt through the loops on his jeans, his eyes already fixed back on the football game on television. 

You went to the fridge and pulled out a beer, passing it to him where he had collapsed in his chair and held up a hand without a word. He cracked the can open and started yelling at the referee, but you'd edged down the short hallway and reached the safety of the room you shared with Daryl, closing the door behind you with a long sigh. 

"How bad's it, sis?" Daryl asked, voice harsh. 

You shifted and shrugged. "Hell if I know. Hurts like a sonnuva bitch." 

"Yeah. Lemme see," he ordered, and you eased down onto the side of his bed and turned your back to him. "Fuck. Ain't nothin'. Have ya patched up in no time," he added gently after a beat. 

You snorted. "So it's bad. It's all good; do what needs doing." 

"Gonna hurt. Gotta stitch at least this one." 

You closed your eyes, grabbed Daryl's pillow, and wrapped your arms around it. "Go ahead. I can take it." 

"Know ya can. You’re a Dixon."


	3. Lie #3: “Supposed To Be A Secret” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Minor character death (canon)

"Ok, people, what have we got this morning?" Shane asked, spinning a chair backward and settling into it. "Daryl, Glenn, and Sasha are out on that run, so it's just us." 

"We should welcome back Merle," Hershel said with a nod toward the oldest Dixon. "Glad to have you and Michonne home. Are you staying long?" 

Merle shrugged. "Hell if I know. Up to the Samurai, really. Got a couple more’a them grids to clear out, but we ain't in no hurry. Trail's cold and she knows it same's I do." 

"Then why are you still going out there? Isn't it dangerous?" Carol asked. 

"Sure. So's breathin', these days. Samurai's gonna go no matter what, so I go and I watch her ass." 

Shane snorted. "Got a thing for Michonne there, Dixon? Your sister seems to think you do." 

"Lil sister can mind her own business, ya pig bastard," Merle shot back, but there was no heat in it and Shane knew it. Merle grinned at him and then gestured toward the other three. "We got us a majority here. Let's make some decisions while the other three are out. What's on tap?" 

Carol rolled her eyes. "Always making trouble, Merle. Hershel, how's the pharmacy look?" 

"Got a list here from Caleb. There's a lot needs gathering, but hopefully the Big Spot will handle some of it. Low on antibiotics again," Hershel said, sliding the list toward the others. 

Shane sighed and jotted down a note. "Gonna be a long run to get more of those. Might do to wait a bit, what with the fences piling up again. That group this morning was almost as bad as last month." 

"And what a disaster that was," Carol agreed. 

"The hell'd I miss?" Merle asked, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward onto the table. "Ain't we got crews down there takin' 'em out?" 

"Yeah, but they don't spread out anymore," Shane said with a grimace. "The herds are getting bigger, and we had one come in middle of the damn night. Took all of us from C block and two of the regular fence shift crews to get it under control. They get too deep, they could bring the fences down. We need some backup plans." 

Merle chewed on his thumbnail in the habit Shane had came to realize was a universal Dixon trait. "Aight, lemme take that one. I'll see what I can come up with." 

Shane nodded and scribbled down a note about that too. "Better do it quick." 

"Don't get ya panties in a twist, pig; I'll have ya a couple options by tomorrow's meetin'." 

"Sounds good. Now, we need to talk about Rick," Carol said seriously. 

Shane's eyes narrowed. "What about him?"

"Hey, brother," Shane said, wandering down into Rick's garden with his thumbs looped into his gun belt. 

Rick was drenched in sweat, doing something Shane didn't understand and frankly didn't care about with what might have been a hoe. Or possibly a rake. Shane wasn't a farmer and he never would be, and honestly he didn't want to be. That was Rick and Hershel's job. 

Shane's, apparently, was everything else; including this awkward conversation he was about to have. 

Rick glanced up at Shane and nodded. "Hey. Something wrong?" 

"Why do you think something's wrong?" 

Rick leaned against his garden implement and squinted at him. "You got a look. Like you're about to tell me you slept with Sheila at a party last week and maybe it wouldn't be the best idea in the world for me to ask her out." 

"That's specific," Shane muttered, wincing as he shoved a hand through his hair. "We ain't over that ancient history yet?" 

Rick cracked a grin and Shane rolled his eyes. He snorted and flipped Rick off when his friend laughed. 

Shane took a minute to enjoy the sound and the sight of the relaxed smile on Rick's face. Rick had a rough go of it, losing Lori the way he had. All the shit with the Governor had taken a damn toll on his best friend, and on top of the winter they'd had before that, the hard choices Rick had made to keep them alive, waking up in a fucking hospital alone, and Lori's death, Rick had come too damn close to going completely insane for Shane's liking. He was glad Rick had taken a step back from leadership over the past few months, even if it had made Shane's life harder by extension. Running the Atlanta camp had been difficult enough; and the prison was bigger now than the camp had ever been. Plus, they were doing the whole rebuilding civilization bit, when Shane's camp had been entirely focused on sheer survival. 

Which circled him back to why he was here, he thought and looked beyond Rick for a minute at the fences. 

"Going out to check the snares later?" he asked finally. 

Rick's smile faded and he nodded. "Yeah. Daryl wanted me to come on that run with them. I couldn't."

"Yeah, I know," Shane said with a sigh. "Man, we don't- look, you did some hard ass shit. And Lori- fuck. I'm still not over it, so I know you aren't." 

Rick swallowed and looked away, tapping his tool on the ground a couple of times as he shifted restlessly. "No. I'm not. I'll probably never be." 

"That's fair," Shane muttered. "Thing is though, brother, when you go out there? You gotta take your gun, man." 

Rick straight up rolled his eyes at Shane. "I've got a knife. I run into trouble, six bullets won't make much difference."

"You been hangin' out with Carl too long, man. Acting like a damn surly teenager. Just take the fucking gun so I don't have to make an issue of it, ok? If Ace can do it, so can you," Shane said firmly. He crossed his arms and stared Rick down until the other man sighed and nodded. 

Shane clapped him on the back with a smile. "Let me know if you want company when you go. I'll be up there until then. Someone flooded the laundry room and I don't even fucking know how, since we don't use the machines. Like a damn basement I know of, back in the day." 

Rick laughed again. "Still say that's from you fixin' my sink before I could do it." 

"Shit. You know about that? Supposed to be a secret." Shane shook his head as Rick started toward his pigpen and Shane headed back up the track.

"Lori may have let it slip in a panic when the basement started filling up." 

Shane laughed. "Oh, I can believe that. It’s not my fault you're a shit handyman. Pretty decent farmer, though." 

Rick looked over his field as he and Shane got ready to part ways and nodded. "Least I'm good at something. I'll take my gun. Go solve someone else's problems, brother." 

Shane sighed as he started back up, wondering when Rick would start believing in himself again the way Shane- and everyone else- believed in him.

Shane looked over at Rick's desk and shook his head. His friend was staring at Lori again, and Shane bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. He folded a piece of paper into a thick, dense triangle, aimed, and glanced up at the front of the classroom. 

Mrs. Lewis was writing out a string of numbers and letters on the blackboard that made Shane's head hurt- he already knew he was failing the test next week and no amount of Rick hounding him into doing homework was going to help that- so he aimed carefully and flicked his missile in a perfect arch toward Rick's ear. It bounced off and Rick jumped so bad he knocked his math book to the floor with a bang. 

Everyone jumped, including Mrs. Lewis, and Shane had to work damn hard to keep a straight face when she narrowed her eyes at the two of them. "Problems, Mr. Grimes? Mr. Walsh?" 

"No, ma'am," Rick said innocently. "Just, uh-" 

"Just too busy looking at the back of Miss Evans' head to notice your textbook precariously balanced?" 

Shane smothered a laugh behind his hand and Mrs. Lewis cut her eyes sharply to him. He straightened up and scooped up his pencil, studiously copying down the equation she'd written out. She stared at him for a moment, then turned back to Rick. 

"Try to keep the disturbances to a minimum, Mr. Grimes. And take at least some notes, please. I don't want you to have to rely only on Mr. Walsh's translation, since he's been busy playing triangle football instead of paying attention as well. Perhaps you can ask Miss Evans to tutor you both after school." 

Rick turned red and muttered an apology, staring at his notebook as his cheeks flamed. Shane, on the other hand, watched Lori turn and glance from Rick to him, and he flashed his best smile and winked when she caught his eye. She rolled her eyes at him and looked back at Rick, biting her lip before turning her attention to the front as Mrs. Lewis started droning on again. 

Yeah, Shane thought smugly when she tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted in her seat. He'd spend some time tonight coaching Rick, and his friend would have a date by the end of the week. 

"Mr. Walsh, at least pretend to pay attention!" 

“It was just a head?” Shane didn’t know what his face was doing, but he figured it was close to Rick’s disgusted expression. 

Rick had run into a woman out there checking the snares and tried to help her. Turned out, she wanted to feed Rick to the zombie head of what used to be her husband. Rick had rolled his eyes at Shane’s “this is why you need your gun, man, what the fuck?”.

“A head,” Rick confirmed. “Hate leaving her out there though.” 

“She tried to feed you to a fuckin’ head, brother. I’m gonna call leaving her the smart play.” 

Rick snorted and shifted his feet, looking down at Judith in his arms. “Yeah, you might be right there.” 

“Might be?” Shane muttered. He leaned back against the table, staring up the path before shoving upright to pace restlessly. 

Ace and her brother should have been back by now. They were supposed to do a quick sweep, grab the basics, and come home. They’d do a bigger run tomorrow, after the fences were under control. 

“They’ll be back. Might have hit a snag or two out there but they’ll be fine,” Rick said, his voice amused. 

Shane scoffed. “Snag or two. Like someone feedin’ people to severed heads?” 

“Yeah, I’d say that would qualify,” Rick said dryly. 

The man in the guard tower whistled and one of the fence crew ran for the gate. “Finally,” Shane muttered, and took off for the courtyard as the convoy pulled up. 

Dixon let the bike fall to the side, not bothering with the kickstand as he jumped off and started yelling for Doc S or Hershel, and Shane’s heart stopped. 

“Where’s- fuck,” he snapped, and took off at a dead run. 

Ace wasn’t on the bike. 

Shane’s hands were still shaking when Hershel patted Ace’s cheek and declared her mostly just in need of sleep. She had a couple cuts and scrapes, including one deep enough to need stitches on the back of her arm, and the old man had wrapped her ankle after some gentle prodding. 

“I’m fine, Shane,” she said. Her voice was tired and thick with grief, and Shane’s heart twisted again. “I’m fucking lucky my ankle’s not worse, I suppose, but I’m fine.” 

“Stop it,” he told her firmly, rubbing a hand over his eyes and trying to force away the fear and the anger he’d been drowning in since Dixon yanked open the passenger door and pulled Ace, blood and dirt and fucking wine all over her, from the car.

“Stop what?”

“Blaming yourself. Zach isn’t your fault.” 

Her laugh was sharp and mocking. “It isn’t? He got bit because they stopped to get me out. Because I was the dumbass who got stuck and they wouldn’t leave me.” 

Shane didn’t remember crossing the cell, but he took her face in his hands and ran his thumbs over her tear-streaked cheeks. “Sweetheart,” he started, but she closed her eyes and shook her head. 

“They should have left me, Shane. They should have gone. A fuckin’- a fuckin’ helicopter was coming through the roof, walkers raining everywhere, and they stopped to pry me out from under a shelf.” 

Shane snorted. If she was going to be ridiculous, he’d call her on it. “That’s bullshit. You think your brother would ever even consider leaving you behind? Shit, Slugger, you’re not that dumb.” 

Her eyes flashed as she opened them and met his. “It’s not dumb. It’s common sense. They should have saved themselves. I’m the idiot that got caught under a shelf.”

“You pushed Bob out of the way. Saved him from serious damage, from what he says.” 

“And cost Zach his life!” 

Ace’s voice hitched as she started to cry again, and Shane tugged her into his lap. He held her close and whispered into her hair as she sobbed, reassuring nonsense as she let out the guilt and the grief. 

It soothed some of the sick churning in his gut, holding her close. Thing was, he didn’t believe Daryl should have- or ever would have- left her there. Daryl wouldn’t have left anyone, even at his own expense, and definitely not his sister. Shane liked to think it wouldn’t cross his own mind to leave someone else behind, not anymore, but he knew himself too damn well. 

If it had been him in charge, and the choice was leave someone behind to get home to Ace or die trying to rescue them, well- 

Let’s just say Shane was glad things had gone the way they did, all things considered. Ace was alive, and frankly that was all he cared much about.

But Shane had come damn close to losing her; probably closer than she was even telling him. He knew when she fell asleep, he’d be making a trip up to Daryl’s cell to get the real version of the story. 

What he knew so far had been snapped at him by Daryl as they helped Ace into C block, babbled by Bob trailing them until Daryl had ordered him to wait outside, or delivered reluctantly and no doubt skewed by Ace’s guilt. From what he could gather, she’d saved Bob from being flattened by a shelf, nearly been killed by a walker (she’d claimed it wasn’t that close but Daryl had snarled something about a broken bottle and Shane had questions goddamn it), and barely gotten released from where she’d been caught before Zach was bitten. Then a helicopter had collapsed through the roof and destroyed the entire building, on the heels of their retreat. 

The group was lucky they’d only lost one person, and Shane was damn grateful to the kid for getting his girl out. 

Ace had stopped crying and just leaned against him now. “I brought him in. I brought him and his friends in. And he gave his life for me.” 

“Slugger, no. He gave his life for the group. Everyone on that run knew the risks,” Shane said firmly. And he meant it too. Everyone knew what they were getting into when they went out there.

Even Ace. 

He tightened his grip on her as she huffed out an annoyed breath. “But if I hadn’t been stuck-“

“Something else would have happened and the place would still have been torn up. Maybe it would have been tomorrow, with a bigger group there, and everyone would have been crushed. Maybe it would have been Bob today, killed when the shelf hit him wrong. Maybe it would have still been Zach, when the walkers started falling in. You can’t know, sweetheart, and guilt and second guessing will eat you alive,” he finished, tangling his hand in her hair. 

“You’re one to talk.” The annoyance in her tone made him smile, but it fell from his lips with her long sigh. “Poor Beth.”

Yeah, Beth, Shane thought, guilt rising in him again. Daryl had gone off to tell Beth as soon as he knew Ace wasn’t badly injured. Shane shifted Ace so he could kiss her gently, and hated himself a little. 

Shane’s girl was here in his arms; she wasn’t hurt too badly. She’d made it home. Shane felt bad for Beth and guilty as hell for it, but he’d sacrifice all the Zachs in the world to make sure Slugger came back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God I’m so sorry y’all it’s been a WEEK. 🤦🏼♀️


	4. Lie #4: "He Was So Not Qualified For This" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
light smut

Shane woke up to Ace’s lips trailing over his chest and heading south fast, along with all the goddamn blood in his body. He shifted, looking down to find Dixon blue eyes already on his and dancing. 

"Good morning to you, too," he said dryly. "What the hell you doin', Slugger?" 

"If it isn't obvious, then I'm not doing it right, am I?" she tossed back with a smirk. 

He rolled his eyes and tugged lightly on her hair, urging her back up so he could study her a little easier. He swept his knuckles across her cheek as he searched her face. "You ok?" 

Ace huffed and rolled those eyes. "I'm fine, hero." 

"Yesterday-" 

"Was a close call," she interrupted firmly. "But I'm alive, and I'm ok, and…” 

Her hands were busy as she trailed off, biting at her lower lip and ghosting her fingers down his stomach and just under the edge of his jeans as she did. Shane grabbed at her hand and she laughed. 

"Damn it, Slugger!" he snapped, but she ignored him in favor of kissing him hot and needy. His hand wrapped in her hair and the next thing he knew he had her pinned under him, her legs locked around his waist and the flannel she’d stolen from him bunching high on her hips. The bare skin of her thighs slid warm over his sides as she rolled her hips to meet his with a greedy noise coming from the back of her throat. He leaned his forehead against hers and glared from up close. 

She looked completely unrepentant, and he could feel himself smiling. It was hard to be mad at her when she was so fucking pretty and those damn hands were roaming his back and arms like they were right now. 

She nipped at his lower lip absently. "Come on, Walsh. Don't tell me you're not interested." 

"I'm not in the habit of lyin' to you, am I?" he muttered, and gave in. "Damn it. Come here, and be quiet." 

"You like it when I'm- fuck!- loud," she retorted, her breath catching when Shane yanked her head back so he could bite at her neck. 

Shane grinned and ran his tongue down her throat, his fingers working on the buttons on the flannel. "Maybe," he agreed lazily. "Others don't though." 

"Aw, fuck them," she gasped, arching into his hands as he got enough of the damn buttons undone to close them over her breasts. He’d been thoroughly lectured about ripping buttons off her shirts- sorry, his shirts- after the last time he’d done it and hadn’t been able to get them all collected again. Not that Shane cared; she could lecture all she wanted as long as he got to kiss her when she was done. 

She let out a low moan that had him smirking and running a fingertip down the inner curve of her breast. She mumbled a curse and he followed his finger with his lips, barely brushing her skin, and her hand tangled in his hair and pulled. 

"You know, I'm thinking maybe we just fuck each other instead," he suggested, lips hovering over hers again as he got the last of her buttons undone and ran his hand up her body from hip to throat. He cupped her cheek and slid his thumb over her lower lip as she rolled her eyes and bit at it.

She squirmed when he laughed, driving one finger into his ribs even as she hooked a leg over his hip and rolled with him to land on the floor with a thump. She managed to land on top, because of course she did. 

Shane looked up at her, his shirt open and falling off one shoulder, her eyes lazy and filled with a curious mix of need and satisfaction, and her hair falling in a cloud of wine-colored tangles he shouldn’t have found so goddamn sexy, and Shane wondered just what the hell he’d do without her. 

“You happy now?” He asked her archly, faking the annoyance he knew she’d expect even as he reached for her again. 

She came when he tugged on the shirt, leaning over him with a hand on either side of his head and his on her hips. She shrugged. “Sure. About to be happier, though.” 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” 

She kissed him hard before rolling her body over his in the horizontal version of one of her dance-floor moves. Shane’s brain short circuited at her skin sliding warm and soft over his, and then she was rocking her hips against him with one hand scooping back her hair and the other planted on his chest. Shane let out a groan of his own and pulled her down hard against him, his own hips shooting up to meet her as she laughed and did it again. 

“That’s how you wanna be, huh?” He growled, and got the shot straight to his ego- and straight to his dick- when her eyes went wide and dark and her lips parted. “Two can play that game, sweetheart.” 

In a heartbeat, he surged up and tossed her back onto the bed, unbuttoning his jeans as he leaned over her. She grinned recklessly at him, pulling sharply on his jeans herself as he grabbed her legs and yanked her closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her fingers into his hair, lifting one eyebrow in clear challenge as he slid inside her. 

“Come on then, Dickhead. Give it your best shot,” she whispered. 

Shane snorted. “I always give it my best shot, and you haven't been complaining yet. Now shut up, unless you’re sayin’ my name.” 

“God, you’re so demanding- Shane! Shit, Shane!” 

He laughed and thrust into her again, loving the way she cried out for him with that breathless shocked surprise and naked need in her voice as she said his name. She rose to meet him now, matching him touch for touch, stroke for stroke, and her mouth found his even while her breath hitched and she moaned and shuddered.

Shane mumbled her name right back to her, gripping the bed frame above her head for balance as he gave her more and more to send her flying. She cried his name as she hit the peak, and he fell moments later, collapsing over her with his face buried in her mulled-wine hair. 

She ran a hand down his back and slapped his ass lightly, and he snarled in her ear and jabbed at her with his elbow. 

“Morning, Dickhead,” she said cheerfully, rubbing his back. “Think I’ll take a nap now.” 

“Shut up, Slugger.” 

Shane left her messing around with a sketchbook and gathering supplies for art class with the kids later this morning. She seemed a thousand times better than the night before, but her babble about the chalk project she was going to do with the kids had hitched when she heard Beth talking to Judith as she wandered toward the common area. Shane had run his hand down her hair and she’d swallowed hard, then picked up babbling where she’d left off.

Losing Zach- especially like that- had been a hard knock, Shane knew. But Slugger was tough, and much like all of them, she was getting too damn used to losing people. She’d be alright, he thought as he ducked into the early morning sunlight. 

Rick was down in the field with Carl already. Shane noticed the horses were gone and frowned, wondering what the hell was up with that. He’d checked the wall and no one had listed any long runs today from their little clan. 

He added figuring it out to his to-do list and headed over to start the charcoal for Carol to man the grill. He shook his head when he saw her already there, slicing and dicing shit for breakfast on Ace’s bar. 

“Sorry Carol. Running behind this morning,” he apologized. 

Carol shot him an amused look. “Your hair’s a mess, Walsh.” 

Shane leaned onto the bar beside her and looked over the prison, scanning the fences for build up. There was a group on the south fence that needed attention. He glanced at Carol blandly and stole a bite from under her knife. “Is it?” 

Carol snorted. “You two are like rabbits.” 

“Oh, I’d say more like tigers. You know, dangerous,” Shane shot back. 

“And solitary. You aren’t tigers. Rabbits,” she declared firmly, waving the knife in his direction, and Shane started to laugh. 

Then the gunshots echoed. 

Shane and Carol burst into motion as Lizzy and Mika came out of D block screaming.

"Mr. Shane, Miss Carol, help!" 

Mika sobbed into his arms as Lizzy babbled the situation to Carol. Shane shot Rick a grim look, passing the little girl Carol's way as C block's doors slammed open and their people poured out.

"Walkers in D," Shane snapped. 

"What about C?" Rick yelled back, all of them already on the move. 

"Clear!" Ace's voice was firm and controlled as she, Daryl, Sasha, and Glenn and Tyreese fell in behind them. "We locked the door to the tombs. Hershel's on guard." 

"Ain't a breech," Daryl confirmed. "Followed procedure." 

"Judy's fine," Ace added, to both him and Rick. "Come on." 

D block was pandemonium. Ace tossed Shane a knife and pulled Daryl’s from his belt as her brother fired the crossbow, the three of the them the first through the doors as usual. Shane snatched a rifle from the hands of a petrified D block resident, lobbing it to Rick before charging toward the walkers on Ace and Daryl’s heels. 

It was grim; it was brutal; it was ugly. Twenty-seven of their own, bitten or turned or somewhere in between. And when it was all over, that wasn't even the worst part. 

Hershel and Doc S were already at work on the survivors, but Shane was more concerned with the walker Rick had found locked in his cell and bleeding from the eyes. He looked at Ace over his shoulder and she nodded. 

"Doc? We need you up here," she yelled down. "Got something strange." 

"No bites, no wounds. I think he just died," Rick said. He shifted the walker's head, checking the neck and then looking up at the group gathered in the cell doorway. Shane, Ace, Daryl, Hershel, and Doc S crowded into the doorway, all of them anxious to figure out what fresh disaster they were dealing with.

"He died horribly, too. Pleurisy aspiration," Doc S agreed. 

Hershel sighed. "Choked to death on his own blood. Caused those trails down his face." 

Shane ran a hand through his hair and swallowed hard. What a way to go; drowning on your own blood and helpless. Locked in a cell waiting to turn.

No thanks. Shane knew he’d rather go out taking on a fucking herd or staring down the barrel of another Governor’s gun. Shit, he’d take starving to death like they’d come close to over that winter before he died in a cage from something he was powerless to do anything about.

"I've seen it before. On a walker outside the fences," Rick said, eyes meeting Shane’s like he knew what Shane was thinking. Hell, maybe he did.

"They were on Patrick, too," Ace put in, and her hand slide into Shane's as she leaned against his side. "They were sick, weren't they?”

"Yeah. They’re from internal lung pressure building up, like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose, and throat are the top," Doc S said grimly. 

Ace gagged, and Shane had to agree with her. 

"It a sickness from the walkers?" he asked, already trying to figure out what sort of fresh bullshit they were going to have to go through to keep people safe. 

What the hell were they supposed to do if it was from the walkers? It wasn’t like they could stop the fence crews or the supply runs. Walkers were every fucking where; that was kinda the whole thing. End of the world and all, and now Shane had to figure out how to keep them from being carriers of some mysterious illness that would wipe people out in hours? Shit, he was so not qualified for this. Shane was just a grunt, damn it. Just a cop.

"No, this kind of thing happened before the walkers. Could be pneumococcal. Most likely an aggressive flu strain," Doc S disagreed. 

That helped a little, in Shane's mind, but it still opened up a range of problems to deal with. Diseases had to be treated, and they’d shelved the whole antibiotics debate. Plus there were the kids to think about, as well as the elderly, and who knew how this was being transferred from person to person? Shane found himself wishing he’d picked up some training courses on quarantine procedures and how to deal with epidemics and outbreaks.

"Someone locked him in just in time," Hershel said. 

Ace sighed and shook her head, eyes sad as her hand tightened in Shane's. "Charlie sleepwalked. He locked himself in. He was eating barbecue last night." 

"How the hell can someone die of a cold in a day?" Daryl demanded. "And what the hell do we do about it?" 

"Those are the damn million dollar questions, aren't they?" he muttered. He pressed a kiss to Ace's head in reassurance, knowing Patrick's death would weigh on her as well. He was part of her art classes, and she'd been looking forward to working with the kids this morning. Instead, she'd put one of those kids down when he tried to eat Glenn's face, snatching up Daryl's crossbow and firing a bolt right through Patrick's cloudy eye.

Rick sighed, pushing up from his crouch beside Charlie’s twice dead body. "Violet." 

"The fuck, man?" Shane asked as everyone's eyes turned to his friend. What the hell did one of the pigs have to do with anything? 

"Had a sick pig. It died fast. Saw a sick boar in the woods." 

Shane grimaced. He’d heard of swine and avian flues, sure enough. “This while you were being served to the head on a silver platter?” 

Rick shot him a look that clearly urged Shane to shut the fuck up at his earliest convenience. “Maybe.”

“What the hell are you- you know what; it doesn’t matter,” Ace declared. “Hershel, Doc S, what do we do now?”

"Birds and pigs are how these things spread in the past. We need to do something about those hogs," Hershel declared. 

"Maybe we get lucky and these cases are it," Doc S offered. Shane read the fear in his eyes like everyone else there and knew it was a shot in the damn dark hoping for that to happen. 

Ace snorted, shoving her hair back from her face in a move so like Shane’s own that he almost smiled. Her words were quick to wipe it off his face, though, as she studied the body and then met everyone's eyes in turn. "Bugs like to run through close quarters. Should have seen it at the Lullaby. If one of us got sick, all of us got sick. And this place? We’re on top of each other. It doesn’t get closer than this. We need to get ready.”

Shane clenched her hand in his as he stared at the body, knowing she was right. "Hershel, we need to call a Council meeting."

“God, I’m so sorry, Shane; it’s just Rick’s gone and I’ve got this party and the school called, and-“ 

Shane rolled his eyes as Lori babbled in his ear, already swinging into the school pick up lane. “Lori, stop. It’s fine.” 

“But it’s your day off, and-“ 

“And it’s Carl. You know you can call me any time. That’s why you’ve got me listed with the school, so I can help you out in just this kind of situation. Stop fussing. Kid and I’ll just hang at your house and watch Disney movies all day.” Shane hopped out and waved to the SRO walking the playground. Tom Morgan was a good officer, and he nodded back to Shane and continued on his round. 

“Still-“ 

“Say thank you, Lori, and let me go get your kid before he infects the whole school,” Shane cut her off again, teasing to break through her worry. He didn't mind taking care of the sick kid. Carl was his nephew, Rick was dealing with his mom and dad down in Florida- there was some kind of housing emergency and Shane honestly didn't remember what it was- and Lori had been looking forward to this champagne-soaked bridal shower three hours away for weeks. Shane had this. 

Lori heaved a sigh on the end of the line and laughed a little. “Thank you. Tell Carl I love him.” 

“I will. Now get," he ordered, and laughed when she huffed and muttered something about demanding men. He shoved the phone in his pocket and hooked his shades into his shirt as he headed toward the nurses' office, stopping to sign the kid out and scribble his name on the pick-up sheet.

The kid looked fucking miserable, Shane thought when he saw him. Carl was pale and looked vaguely nauseated but mostly just humiliated. 

"Aww, little man," Shane said in sympathy as the nurse brought him out. "Come on, buck up. You'n'me are gonna have us some fun today. Hit the mall, maybe ride a mechanical bull." 

Carl made a face. "Uncle Shane, I puked in class." 

"Yeah, I heard. Need a trash bag for the ride?" 

"No," Carl said after a moment's consideration. "Need some juice." 

"Juice we can handle. Come on, let's get you home. You guys need anything else from me?" he asked the nurse, who licked her lips and shook her head. 

Shane flashed her a quick grin when her eyes flicked up and down his body before settling back firmly on his face. "Well, my number's on file. You know, just in case." 

"Oh, good. That's good, Officer Walsh," she said, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. "Carl, you feel better now." 

"Bye," Carl muttered, slinging his bag toward his shoulder before Shane took it from him and steered him toward the door. 

Shane draped his arm around the kid. "Ok, my friend. Big decision to make. Robin Hood or Hunchback?" 

Carl gave him a mournful look. "No, Uncle Shane. It's a Hercules kind of day." 

"Aww, shit. Feel that crappy, then? Hercules it is. Grape juice or apple juice?"


	5. Lie #5: “Just So You Know, I Quit” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence   
Mentions of past drug abuse/ drug overdose  
Mentions of past miscarriage

You went with Rick when Shane jerked his head Rick's way. You'd already seen the look on his face when he came from the cell with his knife covered in blood, and you nodded as Shane and the others gathered to hold a rapid conversation about where to have their Council meeting. 

You fell into step with Rick and squeezed his hand wordlessly as you ducked through the door. He glanced at you and squeezed back before pulling his hand free to try to keep Carl at a distance. 

"Carl, stay-" The kid wasn't listening to Rick, running straight to him instead with wide, worried eyes and slamming into him for a hug. 

You frowned at Merle, who had Michonne with one arm over his shoulder and one over Maggie's and was clearly favoring one leg. You hadn't even registered Merle's absence with the fracas going on, but come to think of it there’d been a distinct lack of redneck bickering during that fight. 

"Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't see you come out," Carl was saying, and your heart clenched at the fear in his voice. 

It hadn't been that long since Lori, after all.

"It's ok. I'm fine. But you might want to back away," Rick said, pushing Carl back a couple of steps. 

"I had to use one of the guns by the gate. I'm sorry, Dad," Carl said. 

Michonne grimaced. "The lump and I were coming back in. I fell. They came out and helped us." 

You shot Merle a look. "Where the fuck were you going without saying goodbye? You alright?" 

"Don't get ya panties in a twist, lil sister, we were just headin' out for a quick supply run. I'm fine, but our Warrior Queen here twisted her damn ankle bein' an idiot." 

"Oh, shut up-" Michonne started, turning toward him with an annoyed look. 

You sighed and cut in before they could really get going. "Glad you're alright. Carl, listen. Patrick got sick last night. Some kind of flu that moves fast."

"We think he died and attacked the cell block," Rick added. "I'm sorry; I know he was your friend. He was a good kid." 

"We were going to do a chalk class this afternoon. He was excited about it," you put in, sorrow welling up at the look on Carl's face. First Zach, now Patrick and all the others. It was too damn much, you thought grimly. "We lost a lot of good people. Merle, Daryl and I are fine. So are Glenn and Hershel, Maggie. But we were all in there." 

"You shouldn't get too close to anyone that might have been exposed, at least for a little while," Rick added. "Carl. All of you." 

Carl ran back over toward the others and Merle looked thoughtful. 

"Kid, help this dumbass on inside, aight? Look, Rick, I'm on the Council. I gotta get in there and do my part," your brother declared firmly. 

"I don't think that's a good idea," you said slowly, but Merle was already striding your way. 

He winked as he reached you and tossed his arm around your shoulders. "Guess it's a good thing I didn't ask you now ain't it? Where's the damn Council meetin', little sis. I gotta help ya pig figure this shit out." 

The bar was slammed. People were standing elbow to elbow, every damn table was full, and there were more milling around near the jukebox with drinks in hand. 

You scowled at Ellie. “Is this within fire code? How many fucking people are we rated for?” 

“You drowning?” She asked with a grimace. “I’m sorry. It’s this bug. Everyone’s sick. I’m here to help, though. Put me to work.” 

You eyed her and ran over your mental to do list. Ellie could waitress like a machine but she couldn’t mix a drink for shit. “Drop food. Take orders. Pull beer. If it’s a mix, for the love of god, let me do it.”

“I’m going to chose to not be offended by that,” she said magnanimously as you ran an orange peel around the rim of the glass and slapped the Old Fashioned on the already-loaded tray. “Partly because you’re not wrong but mostly because you’re doing amazingly well on your own.” 

You snorted and yelled for Tara to come pick up. “Ellie? Just so you know, I quit.” 

“Tell me tomorrow,” she said with a laugh, heading down the bar to respond to the six hands waving in the air for attention. 

You kept working like a madwoman, the sound of the printer and “hey, Ace” or “miss?” or “bartender!” making your jaw clench tighter. You’d have killed for a cigarette. Or one of the shots you poured messily into the lined-up glasses and lit on fire. Or just two consecutive seconds in which you weren’t moving. 

None of that was happening tonight, you thought in despair as the kitchen started screaming for you. You ignored them because you had a draft mug under the tap in one hand and were popping the tops off bottles with the other, and the kitchen could kiss your ass right then for all you cared.

“Ace.” 

Your head whipped up in shock, hands swapping mugs and yanking the newest tickets from the printer without conscious direction from your brain. You knew that voice. What the hell? 

Daryl stood, shoulders hunched and chewing on his thumbnail. Your first thought was he looked tired, and you got worried. Your second was that you so didn’t have the time or the energy tonight. 

“Julie, pick up!” You shouted, then scanned the tickets and started pulling more bottles. “Dar, this is a real bad night. I’m on my own. You want a drink, get in line. You want to chat, call me tomorrow. Sometime after noon.” 

“Look, sis, I got eyes. I see ya busy, but we need to talk.” 

You groaned and gestured down the bar. “I’ve gotta mix. Follow along and yell; that’s the best I can do.” 

You dumped vodka and peach schnapps into a shaker, added a scoop of ice, and grabbed the pineapple and cranberry juices from their coolers. Daryl fought his way to the bar and leveled the asshole who’d been staring down your shirt half the night with a pointed glare until he gulped and moved away. 

“Sis, can ya take five? It’s important,” he insisted with a frown.

You slapped the lid on the shaker and scooped it up, shaking with one hand as you hooked an orange slice over rim of a tall glass with the other. “Not really,” you informed him. “Look, I’ve got tickets up to my eyebrows and- I hear you goddamn it; get Ellie!- I’m completely swamped. What’s up?” 

You poured the Sex on the Beach into the glass, tossed a cherry into it for good measure, and slung it three seats down along the bar with practiced aim. “Sarah, consider yourself laid,” you called, already on the move again as Sarah yelled a thank you. 

“It’s Merle,” Daryl said. 

You lifted an eyebrow and lined up three more glasses, plopping spoons and ice into all of them before turning around and grabbing what felt like every bottle from the bottom shelf. “And?” 

Daryl’s eyes got wide as you poured vodka with one hand and tequila with the other, crossing your arms to put both in every glass. You switched to rum and gin and nodded acknowledgment of a beer waved in your direction. 

“And… shit. Sis, he’s in the hospital,” Daryl said. 

You snorted and grabbed the sweet and sour and the triple sec. “Again, and?” 

“He OD’d.” 

You cracked a Coke open and dumped a splash into each glass, chugged the rest of the can while stirring the Long Islands, and lobbed the can toward the recycling bin. You scooped all three glasses into your hands and moved toward the far end of the bar to drop them in front of the early-thirties moms getting plastered. “Ladies, this is it until you eat. Don’t make me take your keys, now.” 

Back down the bar you did a quick scan, waved a one minute to the empty beer being wiggled your way again, and turned to see Ellie with an overloaded tray on her shoulder coming out of the kitchen. You looked back at your brother and shrugged helplessly. 

“Daryl, I can’t go anywhere right now. I’m drowning as it is. Everyone we know is sick. Jason’s in the ER tonight too, getting IV fluids and shit because he puked so much today he passed out. I physically cannot stop or I’ll collapse, and I can’t leave. So either wait till closing time or call me tomorrow and give me an update. Merle snorting himself to oblivion is so not my problem tonight. Tony, I swear to God, if you want another fucking beer you better put that damn thing down and wait your turn!” The last bit was delivered with a finger pointed at the asshole waving his empty at you again, and everyone gathered around the bar near him glared at him. You turned back to Daryl and shrugged. “Sorry, Darrie. I’ve got more shots to make.” 

Daryl scoffed and glared. “Yeah, sure. Shots are more important than our brother. I get it.” 

“Don’t be an asshole,” you snarled, but he waved you off and headed for the door. You stared after him for a beat, but turned back to the bar as the printer sounded again. 

Arguing with Merle did absolutely no good. He stood firm in his decision to risk exposure, making D block his destination. You followed him with a sigh so you could fill him in on what you knew. 

“And ya think everyone in here is exposed?” Merle asked, eyes scanning the blood and bodies still in the cell block. 

You nodded, hovering in the doorway with your arms crossed. “That’s what it sounds like. I mean, most of us touched the walkers. I’ve got walker blood on me right now.” 

“Need to get that shit washed off real fast, baby sis,” he said in a warning tone. “How many dead?” 

“I think it was twenty-six,” you said softly, closing your eyes against the pain. “Biggest loss we’ve had.” 

Merle grunted. “Seems like. What the hell ya thinkin’, coming into this mess?” 

Your eyes shot open and you glared at him. “What was I thinking? I was thinking I heard gunshots and Lizzy and Mika crying about walkers in D block! What were you thinking, runnin’ off with Michonne and not putting your destination on the wall?” 

Merle rolled his eyes. “We was headin’ out to find some supplies, is all. Didn’t list a destination cause we ain’t had one. Just knew y’all didn’t bring nothin’ back from the Big Spot and we needed shit.” 

You scowled. “And Michonne’s ankle?” 

Merle laughed and waved as he headed back toward you, pausing to squint at a blood splash on one wall. “We need to seal this block off. She done fucked up trying to wrestle a couple walkers while I’s busy with a few more. Heard something crunch when she fell. Rash of damn ankle injuries goin’ around, huh?” 

You gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “Council’s meeting down there. Why do I feel like the story was a hell of a lot scarier than what you just said?” 

“Cause ya ain’t dumb. How’s the arm?” 

You rolled your eyes as you walked with him. “It’s fine. It’s just stitches, and I don’t even think it really needed them.” 

“Pig bitched, huh?” Merle wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you glared without any real feeling behind it. 

“His name’s Shane. Yeah, he fussed. Hershel insisted though.” 

“Better safe than sorry,” Merle grunted, the he frowned when the coughing echoed up to you both. “Like with that. Shit. Better catch up to whoever it is.” 

"I'm just taking her back to my cell, so she can rest," Tyreese said. 

You rounded the corner to see him up the hall with an arm around Karen. Karen had stayed in D block with the rest of Woodbury’s former residents, even when Tyreese and Sasha had moved to C. Karen coughed into her hand again and your jaw tightened. 

No way she was going into C block. Not where Carl and Judy were. 

"Tyreese, I don't think that's a good idea," Hershel said slowly. 

"Oh, it sure ain't," Merle agreed. 

You stepped into the crossway and the Council was out in full force, all of them looking at Karen with worried eyes. Shane sighed and glared at you and Merle. 

"What the hell are you doin' in here?" he snapped. 

Merle ignored him as Karen looked at all the grim expressions. "What's going on?" she asked. 

"We think it's a flu or something," Glenn said. "It's how Patrick died." 

"Judith is in that cell block. She's vulnerable. Anyone that may be sick, or even exposed, should stay away." Hershel's soothing voice didn't do much to eliminate the sudden sick fear churning in your stomach. 

He was right. Judith was the most vulnerable of anyone there. She'd been born after the world went to shit, so she'd had no vaccines, no flu shots, no fucking chance beyond natural resiliency against catching something like this. To be fair, the old adage about building up your immunity by eating a pound of dirt a year? Yeah, Judy qualified. 

But against something as aggressive as what had taken down Patrick? 

You swallowed hard, eyes locking with Shane's as you grabbed for Merle's hand to steady yourself. You had a sudden, impossibly detailed image of Judy's little face with blood coming from her eyes, and you couldn't- 

The look on Shane's face said he was just as worried as you were, though he tried a tight smile for your benefit. 

"It killed Patrick?" Karen asked. 

"But she's gonna be ok. Now that we know what Patrick died from, we can treat it, right?" Tyreese said, glancing from Hershel to Karen. Karen pulled away, pressing a hand to her lips. 

"Don't panic. We're going to figure this out. But we should keep you separated in the meantime," Hershel reassured them. "I'll see what we have in the way of medications and Caleb will take a look at you." 

Karen sighed. "David. From the Decatur group. He's been coughing too." 

You stiffened and the Council all looked at each other. Shane rubbed a hand over his forehead, shoving off the wall. 

"Hershel, go tell Doc S what's going on. Carol-" 

"I'll get started moving linens down to A," she agreed. 

Sasha stepped toward her brother. "There's some clean cells in the tombs. We'll get you settled," she told Karen with a smile as she lead them off.

"Little sis and I'll go get David. Michonne and I brought in Decatur," Merle said firmly. "Walsh, gonna need another meetin' later." 

"Yeah," Shane agreed. "Daryl-" 

"We'll start on the dead," Daryl said grimly. 

Shane reached for your hand, pulling you to him to kiss your cheek as you and Merle headed past. "It's gonna be ok, sweetheart," he whispered. 

You smiled at him, but even you knew it didn't reach your eyes. "Of course it is." 

You collected David, who was as shocked and worried as Karen had been, and took him down to the tombs. Carol had brought down clean sheets and things, and Karen was already settled in when you dropped David off. 

You were quiet and worried as you wandered back up to the main cell blocks with Merle. 

“What’s on ya mind, sis?” He asked after a bit. 

You sighed and shoved your hair back from your face. “Everything. Sickness spreads so damn fast in quarters like this, and this one killed a kid in less than 24 hours. And we’ve got so many vulnerable- the old, the kids. Especially-“ 

Merle rubbed your back when you cut yourself off and shook your head. You could feel tears spring into your eyes and you stared at the floor, coming to a stop. 

“Merle, what if Judy gets it? I can’t- I can’t lose another baby,” you whispered, throat dry. “I know she’s not mine, but-“ 

“Don’t be a dumbass. ‘Course she’s yours. Maybe ya didn’t grow her or nothing, but she’s yours all the same. Yours and the pigs’. One weird-ass family situation, ain’t gonna lie, but who’m I to judge?” Merle said with a shrug and a twisted smirk. “We got a weird ass family of our own, you’n’me and Darylina.” 

You gave a watery laugh and brushed at the tears on your cheeks. “Yeah, we do. She feels like mine. And I can’t lose another baby. If she gets sick-“

“She ain’t. You ain’t. Ya think the damn pig ya so enamored of ain’t got that baby girl first and foremost in his mind? Come on now; ya know better than that.” 

You scowled at him. “Would it kill you to call Shane something nicer? You’re talking about the man I love. Some day he might be your brother in law. What are you gonna do then, just keep calling him ‘pig’?” 

“Shit, why not? Shoe fits’n all,” Merle said with a wink. “Don’t change the subject. I know ya worried, baby girl, and ya got a right. But we’re gonna make it. We did this far; aint no damn virus gonna bring us down. Chin up, aight? Now go get a shower; scrub that blood off and make the shower good’n hot. Imma go help ya... Shane out with the dead ones.”


	6. Lie #6: "Naw, She's My Best Friend, Aside From This Lump of Anxiety Here" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon diverge  
canon-typical violence

Daryl tossed Shane a shovel and the two of the set to work. Daryl had tied his ever-present bandanna around his face, and Shane copied him with one he'd stolen from Ace's pile of painting supplies. 

“So, what the fuck do we do, man?” Daryl asked with a grunt. “Gonna have a fuckin’ epidemic on our hands.” 

Shane sighed. “Yeah. Really wishing I’d taken that training course on dealing with this shit.” 

“They offer courses on apocalyptic healthcare?” 

Shane snorted a laugh, using his foot to drive the shovel into the dirt. “You’re an asshole.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

They shoveled in silence, Shane keeping half an eye on the fence where a shit ton of the dead bastards were gathering- again. How the hell were they supposed to keep them under control? They had crews on the fucking fences all day. 

"Your asshole brother owes me a plan for the fences," he informed Daryl, irritated. "And what the damn hell was he doing down there? He wasn't exposed, but he walked himself into it anyway?" 

Daryl shot Shane a look that was so Ace it confused the fuck out of him for a minute. "You think Merle won't be in the damn middle of where the action is? It's like ya ain't met him at all. Hey, Rick."

Rick grunted, standing over the two of them. Shane stopped digging and looked at his friend, knowing all the signs of something being on the man's mind. He also knew Rick was a close mouthed son of a bitch and would let it out in his own time. 

Daryl glanced at Shane and turned to keep digging. "Glad you were in there." 

"Wasn't much use without my gun," Rick said after a beat, reaching for third shovel Daryl had hauled out here for some reason. 

Shane snorted and got back to work. Rick didn't want to hear Shane's thoughts on the matter; not again. They'd had a few conversations about that shit already- one involving Rick taking a sucker swing at Shane and Shane sitting on his ass laughing about it while Rick scowled at him before pulling him to his feet so they could slap each other on the backs while Ace rolled her eyes and called them cavemen. Shane had yet to change Rick's mind on it. Maybe Daryl could. 

"No, you were," Daryl said, like he'd read Shane's fucking thoughts. "Look, man, all this time you been takin'? You earned it. We wouldn't be here without you." 

Rick picked up a shovel and got to work between Daryl and Shane. "It was all of us." 

"It was you first. You two assholes, much as Merle'n'I hate to admit it. Shane got the camp started; kept everyone alive. You got us here." 

Shane blinked at Daryl. It wasn't that Daryl was any more of a dick to him than he was to anyone else, but Shane thought that might have been the nicest thing a Dixon who wasn't Ace had ever said to him. Daryl rolled his eyes at Shane and ignored his presence in favor of appealing to Rick. 

"You gonna help us figure this out?" 

Rick glanced from Daryl to Shane and Shane just shrugged at him. "You know how I feel about it, brother. I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing." 

"You're doing a good job making it up as you go along. All of you are," Rick disagreed. "I screwed up too many times. Those calls you gotta make- I go too far down that road, too many times. I almost lost my boy, who he was." 

Shane snorted. "That's bullshit. Carl's fine; always has been. And if you made too many bad calls, what about me, man? Otis? That shit on the farm? But you're lettin' me be in charge." 

"Yeah, and fuckin' Merle," Daryl added. "I mean, seriously, Rick. Them two are better options than you?" 

Shane laughed, but Rick just shook his head. "Whatever else this place needs, I'm here for it." 

Shane sighed and went back to shoveling. Daryl nodded and did the same. 

"Like I said, man, you earned it. What it's worth, you see mistakes. I see when the shit hits, you're standing there with a shovel. Both of you assholes." 

“Daryl! Rick! Shane!” 

Maggie’s voice cut through the silence in a shriek that had all the of them springing up and reaching for weapons. Shane figured that was a good thing when he saw the goddamn fence about to cave from the weight of walkers pressing against it. 

The three of them converged with Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, and Tyreese, with Maggie chucking them crowbars and shit from the collection hooked on the fence. For a few minutes it seemed like they could get ahead of it, all of them working together in mildly panicked silence. 

"Are you guys seeing this?" Sasha called suddenly. 

Shane looked her way and saw the headless rats, in a bloody pile just down the guard run from where the fence was-

“Shit, damn, fuck,” he snarled as one clever asshole climbed on the shoulders of his fellows and the fence started giving way.

“Think that’s helpful?” Daryl snarled as he slammed his back against the fence, holding it up with his own body. “Rick! We need a plan! Ain’t gonna hold, man!” 

Shane glanced at Rick, who had a lost look in his eyes. Shane followed his friend’s glance toward the pigpen and felt his heart sink. Rick met his eyes and Shane nodded once, reading the plan in his partner's face. 

“I’ll get the truck.” 

Daryl drove. Shane crouched in the trailer with Rick, thinking about that time they'd geared up and gone in with a SWAT team for no other reason than more bodies were needed and he and Rick had been there. They'd crouched in the back of the SWAT van and looked at each other just like this. 

He reached over and slapped Rick's shoulder, like he had then, and tossed him an overconfident grin. "We got this, brother." 

Rick's lips twitched upward briefly. "Alright, you cocky asshole," he muttered. "Watch your back, damn it." 

Yeah, Shane thought as they pulled through the gate and Daryl took them toward the first of the walkers. Rick remembered that adventure too. Shane also remembered Rick blocking the rest of the team from shooting the target, and he remembered the way he'd yelled at Rick for being a stupid, reckless idiot when Rick walked the man out in cuffs with the sobbing hostage just behind him. He wondered if Rick remembered the conviction with which he'd informed Shane, the sheriff, the head of SWAT, and everyone else who'd bitched him out that saving the man's life was the right the thing to do.

Rick was all about saving lives, Shane thought. It's what made him a good cop and a good leader. It also made what they were about to do so much harder.

Daryl stopped them just ahead of the mass on the fence, Rick and Shane both standing and eyeing the walkers. They got the attention of the dead fucks soon enough, but Rick was waiting for something, his eyes on them. 

Shane watched his friend, watched the battle inside him, and reached a hand Rick's way as Dixon yelled an impatient "let's go". "Brother, I can do it." 

Shane could. He didn't mind a sacrifice, and pigs- even piglets- were a hell of a lot easier to live with than a human being. He thought about a dark schoolyard, his ankle throbbing, fear for Carl bubbling up in him. He thought about Otis' screams and the pain of having a chunk of his own hair ripped from his head. 

Yeah, he could do it. Pigs would be a hell of a lot easier.

Rick didn't speak. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, reached into the box, and pulled out the first of his piglets. The thing squealed and screamed in Rick's arms, then squealed harder as Rick crouched again, grabbed one hind leg, and hamstrung it with a brutal jerk of his knife. Shane's heart broke for Rick, for the poor goddamn pig, for Carl when he found out, as Rick dropped the piglet over the side and walkers fell on it instantly. 

"Go!" Shane yelled, and Daryl pulled up ahead of the shambling motherfuckers who didn't get to take a chunk out of the first sacrifice. 

Rick did the next two, ending up with pig blood sprayed all in his face, and Shane's teeth ground together at the sight. The pigs were being sacrificed because they couldn't be allowed to stay; not after Violet. They were carriers of the disease, and they would save the prison from fence collapse in the meantime. Two birds, one bloody sacrificial stone. But that meant Rick had diseased blood all up on him now, and Shane couldn't stand by and watch this shit tear his best friend up anymore. 

"I got it," he snapped when Rick reached for the next one. "You don't have to do everything. Wipe that fucking blood off your face." 

Shane sliced into the squirming thing in his arms and wondered if it was a bad sign that he didn't feel anything but annoyance at the blood now all over him as well. 

"Go!" he snapped to Dixon, and they lead the walkers away a little further. 

Shane sat in the open doors of the ambulance, annoyed as hell but knowing he had to let the damn paramedics do their job. Rick had hovered at his shoulder, stressed and pale, until the sheriff himself had come to talk to him. He was still being interviewed right now, thumbs hooked in his belt and his stubborn bastard expression firmly in place. Shane snorted as Rick jabbed a finger in the sheriff's direction, glad his brother had found a new target. He been two seconds away from clocking Rick in the jaw to get him to calm the fuck down. 

Shane hissed as the pretty paramedic dabbed at the wound on his shoulder with antiseptic of some sort. It stung like a motherfucker, he thought, and all this was wildly unnecessary. He glanced at the woman as she held the cleanser over the new hole in his shoulder and found her eyeing him as well. 

He flashed her a shit-eating grin. "Lot of fuss over nothin', ain't it?" 

"I pulled a knife from your shoulder, Officer Walsh," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'd hardly call that nothing." 

"I've had worse," Shane said, shrugging with the shoulder that wasn't currently grasped in strong female fingers. "Doesn't even need stitches." 

"You trying to do my job now? It does need them, and you'll sit there and take it like a man. And you'll go to the doctor tomorrow and get further instructions," the paramedic told him in a no-nonsense voice. 

Shane laughed. "Yes, ma'am." 

"Stop flirting, you lucky bastard, or I'll call Ace," Rick snapped. "She'll yell at you for awhile, for all the good it'll do." 

"God. Don't you dare. You tell Ace about this and I'll tell Lori about all the shit you've gotten into," Shane fired back. "Ace would freak the fuck out and leave work to come down here. Ain't worth that." 

"This your girlfriend?" the paramedic asked, her tone noticeably cooler than before. 

Shane smiled at her. "Naw, she's my best friend, aside from this lump of anxiety here. She's tending bar up in Atlanta right now and I just don't want her to worry." 

Rick's snort was eloquent and Shane shot up his middle finger. The paramedic looked less interested than she had before but not as pissed as a moment ago, and Shane decided that was good enough. More than a few women hadn't been able to understand or handle his friendship with Slugger, and Shane had already decided if they couldn't deal with him having a female friend they weren't in the running for future Mrs. Shane Walsh anyway, if such a thing existed. 

"Brother, I'm sorry," Rick said for the millionth time as the woman pulled the antiseptic-soaked gauze pad away and ripped open a suture kit. 

"Stop it. This isn't your fault, and it's nothing anyway," Shane said with a roll of his eyes. "Shit happens, man. I'm the one ran into the fight like a reckless fool." 

"Only 'cause I was already in it," Rick shot back. 

Shane huffed and shoved his free hand through his hair, shooting Rick a glare now as he started to get pissed. He hissed as the paramedic started the first stitch, but started talking before Rick could do more than flinch. "So, what, I should have just let you get your ass beat and possibly killed? I'm your fuckin' partner, asshole. I did my job; you did yours. Shut up about it already." 

Rick sighed and studied the paramedic's actions closely, but at least he'd fucking stopped apologizing. Shane grunted when she slapped another gauze pad against the now-stitched hole and listened with half an ear as she rattled off instructions and wrapped it in a bandage. He already knew he'd have to go to the doctor, if only to get clearance for active duty again, but he'd had enough injuries to know all the muscles and tendons and shit in his shoulder were fine. It was a surface injury; just a puncture that would heal in a couple of weeks. 

Goddamn it, he was supposed to go up to Atlanta and see Ace the day after tomorrow. He'd be explaining this shit after all, and she’d freak out on him. She thought he didn’t see it, but he knew her well enough to read the worry when he told her about close calls or injuries. At least he'd be able to show her, in person, that he was fine. 

And hell, she'd probably tease him about it just being an excuse to take his shirt off, and she'd run her fingers over it and then smack him upside the head for his stupidity. Then they'd get take out or something, and hell, that sounded so damn good to Shane he was considering going up there tonight if it wasn't too late when they let him leave. On the other hand, she was on again with that bastard, so she was probably booked for the night. 

As soon as the paramedic declared him finished and stepped away, Rick pulled him into a rough hug, slapping him on the back and glaring some more. 

"Don't scare me like that, brother," Rick said firmly. 

Shane rolled his eyes but patted Rick's shoulder. "I'll try, man. Don't get into fist fights with assholes with knives. Use your damn gun." 

"Fuck you, Shane." 

"Naw, you're not my type." 

When it was done, Rick went straight for the pig pen. Shane sighed and followed him, knowing his friend needed some help. Problem was, Shane wasn't any good at this shit. 

"Rick," he said slowly, leaning on the pen wall beside where Rick had already begun breaking it down. "Had to do it, man." 

"We need to stay away from Judy." Rick didn't stop working, didn't look up at Shane. 

Shane sighed. "Yeah, I know. Especially after this. Look, man, we need to get this blood off us." 

"I'll go when I get this burned. Might as well do it all at once. Shower isn't gonna change the rate of exposure much," Rick said, grunting it out as he ripped off the first panel. 

Shane nodded and shoved upright. "I'll help then." 

"No. Gonna do it- gonna do it alone. Go shower. Find Ace and talk to her. She's scared," Rick said quietly. "Hell, we all are." 

Shane stared at Rick and shoved a hand through his hair. "Rick, can you- can you just listen to me for a minute, man? I get that you needed a break, brother. I do. I can't- Look, if I lost Ace? I'd- you'd have to put me down and I don't mean as a walker. I mean me, Shane Walsh, right here. 'Cause I would- shit." 

He broke off and ran his hand down his face, his whole body going cold at just the idea of it. "But you aren't me, Rick. You always were the better of us. Always. And you still are. I'm doin'- I'm doin' my best to fill your shoes, brother, but I don't fucking know what to do right now. We're gonna have another Council meeting. I want you to come. Please." 

Rick ripped another panel free and tossed it into the center of the pigpen. "I can't. You know why I can't." 

"No, I know why you won't. Rick, we believe in you. All of us, but especially me. You've never let me down, not once, you hear me? Just think about it, man. I'm gonna go get the pig blood off me, then I'll get back to body patrol. Council will meet in the morning. Hope you're there," he muttered, and headed up to the showers.


	7. Lie #7: “Not Believing In Myself Is The Least Of My Problems” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence   
Canon typical violence  
Minor character death (canon)

In the shower, Shane decided he needed to stay away from everyone who hadn't been exposed yet, and he really ought to keep his distance from those who hadn't been exposed too badly as well. Like Ace, he thought. 

Ace needed to be safe from this thing, and after the pig blood, Shane was about seventy-five percent certain he was going to get it. Him and Rick, come to think of it, so he should stay away from other members of the Council for good measure. Make sure someone would be out of isolation to run this joint. 

Sad to say, but he figured he could leave it in the hands of the Dixon clan and it would be run well enough. Especially if Ace kept her brothers' crazy in check. 

For now, he decided, he'd move into one of the guard towers. He headed to their cell to throw a bag of things together, and of course she found him in there. 

"Hey, hero. Heard you saved us from an invasion." She smiled and stepped closer to him, and Shane took a step back and held up a hand to stop her. 

"Stay back, Slugger," he warned. 

She frowned and crossed her arms, giving him a narrow-eyed look that suggested she already knew they were gonna fight. "What the hell for? I'm already exposed." 

"Had to slaughter the piglets to lead the walkers away. Got pig blood all over me, sweetheart. It's best if you keep your distance." 

Her whole face softened in sympathy. "Oh, poor Rick. I mean, I know why- swine flu. But that's still rough. He ok? You ok?" 

"I'm fine," he told her, wishing she'd just let him leave already. It was hell, being this close and not holding her. He knew she was worried and upset; he'd seen her reach for Merle's hand when Hershel had mentioned protecting Judith. "I'm gonna get out of here and crash in one of the guard towers for awhile. Don't want to risk anyone in here." 

"That's a good idea," Ace said, and reached under the bed to pull out their battered pack, from the winter on the road. "I'll come with you." 

"No," Shane snapped. He shoved a hand through his hair and groaned when she looked at him and simply raised an eyebrow. Her own version of Rick's stubborn-bastard look was fixed firmly in place, and Shane had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to win this one. 

He'd try anyway. She was too fucking important to risk her getting sick. 

"Slugger, come on. You need to keep your distance. From me, from Rick, from the walkers. Minimize your risk," he insisted, shoving another shirt into his bag. 

Ace laughed at him and he shot her a glare. She rolled her eyes and leaned against the bunks, arms crossed. "Are you fuckin' kidding me? How the hell am I supposed to stay away from the walkers? Tell me that. We're going to need medicine. The fences are still going to need clearing. D block will need to be cleaned out eventually, and in case you haven't noticed, we're short twenty-nine pairs of hands!" 

"I have noticed," he snapped. "We can do it short thirty. Ace, please. I can't risk you." 

"But I can risk you? Fuck you, Dickhead. Seriously, what the hell? You're just as important to me as I am to you. I've already been exposed. I think movin' out of the cell block is a good idea, because we absolutely cannot let Judith get this. She's the priority. But I will do my part to take care of this place, and that means I will be in danger. We talked about this. I'm not helpless and you can't use the 'please be safe for me' line to manipulate me into doing whatever you want me to do today!" She glared at him, eyes flashing with temper. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face and reached for her. "Slugger-" 

"No. Don't you 'Slugger' me right now, Dickhead. I'm scared and I'm angry and I have no idea what to do here, but I do know that you and me? We'll do it together. I will not be sidelined, Shane. I'm already at risk. Don't ask me to sit back and watch you and my brothers and everyone else I fuckin' love be in danger while I do nothing. Come see me when you get your head out of your ass. I'll be helping bury the dead. I can damn well dig," she snapped. She spun on her heel and ducked under the curtain. 

"Damn it, Slugger-" 

Ace leaned on Shane's arm, laughing her ass off at his commentary on the place they had just left. 

"Jesus, Shane, don't hold back," she gasped out when she could draw in a breath. "I mean, I know it was bad, but I swear it came highly recommended." 

"My ass. You're trying to give me food poisoning. Did you see that sanitation rating? I've never seen a restaurant with a D before," he bitched, mostly because it made her break into another peal of laughter. 

Ace had looked fucking sad last night when he came into the bar. Sad and kind of pinched around the eyes, like she was in pain. When Shane had called her on it, asking what was wrong, she'd sighed and said she'd had a fight with Mal, and then she'd tripped coming down the stairs on her way into work and slammed right into the trash can at full speed. 

She'd waved off his demands to go see a doctor, saying she was just a little bruised and sore, and being on her feet for hours wasn't helping. Shane could sympathize, and he kept an eye on her all night just to be sure she was really ok. 

He'd had to go home, 'cause he'd had Carl's game today and he'd promised the kid he'd be there, but when Ace had told him she had a rare Saturday night off, he'd immediately decided he was coming back and bringing her out. Now he was glad he had, even if she was trying to kill him. 

They were strolling downtown Atlanta, Ace pointing out street art or places she’d like to put street art as they went. Shane laughed when she grabbed his arm and drug him across the street, disregarding four lanes of traffic, to gesture excitedly toward an alley where she’d seen a piece “with just the most original look, Shane; I mean you have got to see this!” 

Shane eyed the dark alley dubiously, but he was carrying and he’d only had one beer with dinner. He started to follow her when the yell caught his attention. 

“No! Let go, that’s my fucking purse!” 

Shane grabbed Ace’s arm and moved her toward the streetlight, his eyes searching for the source of the angry yell. “Stay right there, Slugger, you hear me?” he snapped, seeing the two college-age girls struggling against a couple assholes trying to steal their bags. 

Shane jogged up the street toward them, shooting a disgusted look at the people giving the struggle a wide berth and averting their eyes. “Hey, assfaces! Leave them alone!” 

The two assailants turned to him, matching sneers on their lips. “This ain’t your business, douchebag. Move it along,” one snapped.

“Naw, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Shane said mildly, tucking his thumbs into his pockets. He could get to his gun quickly from here, at his side under the flannel he’d thrown on, but he’d rather just intimidate them out of it all. “Cause I’m not the type to walk on by when a lady yells for help. Now let the bag go and leave them alone, and we’ll call it even.” 

The two exchanged glances and let go of the bags, puffing themselves up and taking a menacing step in his direction. Shane jerked his head for the two girls to go, and they did, heading for the safety of the waiting crowd and pulling out their phones as they went. 

“Why you think we’re gonna listen to you?” Asshole number one asked. 

Shane sighed and shifted his weight as the leader got closer to him. “Because I said so, and I’m a cop, dumbass. I’m giving you an out. Better take it; there won’t be another one.” 

Asshole number one scoffed. “Yeah? Where’s your badge?” 

Shane shrugged, waiting. 

“I don’t think he’s really a cop,” Asshole number one sneered to his buddy, who looked way less certain of that. “I think he’s just a dick bag who needs to be taught a lesson.” 

The asshole swung and Shane took it right on the chin, not even knocked back a step. He snorted and spat blood from his newly split lip on the ground, hearing Ace’s angry, worried voice yell his name. He held up a hand to calm her down and smirked at the asshole. 

“My turn,” he said, and grabbed the guy’s arm, throwing him to the ground and setting a knee in the center of his back, holding his arm twisted behind him. “You’re under arrest for assaulting an officer,” he said mildly as he heard sirens approaching. “As well as attempted robbery.” 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Shane’s head shot up at the venom in Ace’s tone, and his eyes went wide as he watched her fly into motion when asshole number two started to run. Her fist shot out and clocked him square in the nose, and Shane was reminded of the first time he’d seen her when asshole number two yelped and grabbed at his face. Ace followed it up with a swift kick to the junk that put the dude on the ground, and Shane flashed her a grin as Atlanta PD rolled up. 

“Thought I told you to stay back where it was safe,” he told her sternly a bit later. She leaned into his side, his arm around her shoulders, and watched PD load the two assholes up and take statements from the girls and the witnesses. 

“When do I do what you tell me?” she shot back, and Shane had to laugh. 

Shane stared after Ace, wondering just why in the hell she was so bent out of shape about him asking her to keep her distance.

Didn't she get it? He was trying to keep her fucking safe; keep her and Judith and Carl and everyone he cared about safe from a threat he didn't know how to fight. He didn't know if staying away from him or anyone else who'd been exposed would do any fucking good, cause yeah, she'd been right there with him, splashed in blood just like he had. Hell, she'd put down Patrick. But she hadn't had the pig blood on her, and Hershel said the pigs were certainly carriers.

Staying away from each other, keeping at a distance from the walkers- those were common sense things that would decrease her chances. 

He strode out into the courtyard, ready to channel some of his fear and worry into something productive, like digging more graves or stabbing more walkers. Instead, Rick called his name. 

Shane's eyes narrowed at the expression of barely-controlled horror and anger in Tyreese's eyes, as well as the cool cop look in Rick's. He hadn't seen that in a long damn time, he thought as he fell in at Rick's side. Tyreese wasn't slowing down, and Shane wanted to ask what the fuck was going on as he, Rick, Carol, and Daryl followed the big man toward the tombs. 

Something held him back, though, and he decided to wait and see. 

The smell hit first, then the blood smeared along the hallway. Shane shot a look at Rick, who hooked his fingers into his gun belt as he studied the smears. 

His gun belt, Shane thought. Rick was wearing his gun. Inside the prison. 

Wild hope, at odds with the burning-flesh smell, the width of the blood trails, and the set of Tyreese's shoulder, sprang up in him anyway. If Rick was carrying again, maybe everything would be ok. Maybe- 

Tyreese led them out the door and into bright sunlight and Shane lost his train of thought at the still-smoldering bodies laying side by side and blackened. 

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. His eyes flicked all around the scene and he rolled his eyes at himself when he reached to his side to pull a pair of gloves from a duty belt he hadn't worn in over a year. Maybe more. Old habits died hard, it seemed, and he crouched beside the remains with Rick at his side. 

"You found them like this?" Rick asked, looking up at Tyreese as Shane pulled his knife and used it to press lightly on one body. Ash crumbled where his knife point barely touched it and he sighed. 

"I came to see Karen," Tyreese started slowly. Shane winced at the way he sounded, knowing shock when he heard it and wondering how it was going to manifest in Tyreese. If it'd been Shane, and that was Ace he'd found-

Well, he'd already told Rick if he lost Ace, Shane would have to be put down as well. 

"I saw the blood on the floor, and then I- I smelled 'em." Tyreese's voice wavered, and he whirled toward Shane and Rick. "Somebody dragged them out here and set 'em on fire!" he roared. "They killed them, and set them on fire!"

Rick's jaw tightened as he exchanged a look with Shane, and Shane turned to study the bodies and run a hand over his face. 

He sprang up when Tyreese moved, taking a step toward Rick that had Daryl moving in behind him, hands up and ready. Shane glanced between them, caught Rick's eye, and waited. 

"You're a cop. The two of you are cops." Tyreese rounded on Shane, and he dropped his hand from the butt of his gun so it wouldn't escalate things further. "You find out who did this, and you bring them to me! To me!" 

Thing was, Shane got that. He really did. There'd been some talk about removing Malcolm fucking Hall's head and bringing it to Ace on a silver platter, talk that would have become action if the building hadn't been burning up around Shane's ears. But Shane was in charge of this joint now, more or less, and he wasn't down with bringing one of their own- even one who could do this shit- to Tyreese. Not with that look in the man's eye. 

"Come on, man, let's take it back a step-" he started, reaching toward Tyreese to calm him down in a gesture he copied shamelessly from Rick. Rick was the one who soothed; Shane tended to let the assholes take a swing so he could add assaulting an officer and resisting arrest to the string of charges. 

Tyreese, it turned out, wasn't in the mood to be soothed anyway. Tyreese, Shane thought as he took the first punch to the jaw and staggered back with the force of it, was a fighter and maybe even more of a hothead than Shane himself. 

Yelling echoed around as Shane spat blood and barely got his hands up in time to block the big man's next hit. A couple of those, Shane thought grimly as he shot out one of his own, and Shane would be on the ground. Man packed a punch. 

Then Rick came out of nowhere and Tyreese was down, Rick on top of him and beating the man's face in. Shane had a split second of appreciation followed by flashbacks to himself doing something similar to Carol's deadbeat husband, and he winced as Carol's voice joined Dixon's in trying to get Rick to stop. When Daryl grabbed for Rick's arm and Rick shoved him back with a snarl, Shane figured it was time for him to get involved before Rick beat the poor bastard to death. 

"Rick! Rick, damn it. Come on, brother, he's scared. That's his girl on the ground, there. I don't blame him for the hit, so let the man up," he ordered, managing to do what Daryl hadn't and get a good hold on Rick. He hauled his friend's skinny ass up and off Tyreese, shoving him back and shooting him an amused look when Rick snarled and raised his fist at Shane. "Oh, we both know how that ends, brother," he commented. "But come on if you want to. We'll see if Dixon does like Ace and throws a wrench at our heads." 

Daryl snorted as Rick's eyes cleared and he lowered his arm. "I'd just deck ya both. Don't need a fuckin' wrench." 

"Shut up and get Tyreese to Doc S," Shane said mildly. "Carol, make sure nobody disturbs the scene; Rick and I'll be back. Rick, you idiot, come with me so I can make sure you didn't break anything." 

“So,” he said when he had Rick sitting at a table with his battered knuckles up for Shane to doctor. “We gonna talk about it?” 

“Talk about what?” 

Shane snorted and dabbed antiseptic on the scrapes on Rick’s knuckles. Rick hissed and jerked and Shane rolled his eyes. “Come on, man, don’t be a baby. You’ve had worse. This ain’t nothing.” 

“Yeah? Then you sit on this side of the deal,” Rick shot back. “Stings, asshole.” 

“Yeah, it does that. Wiggle your fingers,” Shane ordered. 

Rick hissed again, moving his fingers carefully and clearly with effort. 

“Yeah, you sprained it at the very least. Sit there like a man and I’ll stitch this one and wrap it,” he told Rick. 

“That’s sexist,” Rick informed him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, talk while I do this. What’s going on in your head these days, brother?” 

Rick sighed and jerked as Shane stabbed a needle through his skin. “Fuck, who taught you how to do this?” 

“Paramedic. Think her name was Amanda, but I could be wrong. Speak, you close mouthed son of a bitch,” Shane said, eyes narrowed on Rick’s knuckles. 

“Don’t know what you want from me, Shane. This- this is who I am,” Rick said slowly. “I beat the shit out of him.” 

“He was beating the shit out of me. When we finish your hand, you get to check out my face,” Shane retorted. “Come on, man.” 

“I’m not fit to lead, brother,” Rick said softly.

Shane glanced up as Hershel cleated his throat in the doorway before making his way to the table. “Come to check up on my skills, doc?” 

Hershel smiled at him faintly. “Came to check up on your patient. But your stitches are crap.” 

“Get the job done,” Shane said with a shrug, winding a bandage around Rick’s hand. “Maybe you can talk some sense into our fearless leader.” 

“Ok, Ace,” Rick muttered, and Shane grinned.

“You know, I fell off the wagon a few times,” Hershel declared in his measured tones.

“That what this is?” Rick asked, gesturing toward the hand Shane was finishing up. 

“Pretty close,” Hershel said with a shrug. “When it happened, I didn't stand around feeling bad about it. I got back up. I had responsibilities. People to keep safe." 

"Council's still meeting in the morning," Shane added. "We need you there. I need you there." 

Rick grunted, grabbed his gun belt, and strode from the room. Shane sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. 

"He'll come around. For what it's worth, you're not doing so badly yourself. I know I had a- a fairly poor opinion of you to start out," Hershel said with a chuckle, settling into the chair Rick had vacated and dabbing at Shane's split lip. 

Shane snorted. "I'd say you had a right." 

"Never said I didn't," Hershel agreed amicably and Shane laughed. "Point being, I don't have a poor opinion of you anymore. You want Rick to believe in himself. Maybe you should try to follow your own advice." 

Shane scoffed. "Oh, Rick- and plenty of others- would say not believing in myself is the least of my problems." 

"And they'd be wrong. Sure, you're a cocky son of a bitch," Hershel informed him, to Shane's delight. "But you doubt yourself where it matters. You're just as-" 

"Where the fuck is he? Walsh!" 

Shane winced at the tone in Ace's voice. "Run, doc. Save yourself," he muttered, rising as Hershel laughed. "I'm in here, Ace." 

Ace flew through the doorway, the scowl on her face turning into wide-eyed fear as her hands flew up. Tears started in her eyes and Shane rounded the table, cursing mentally. "Damn it, Shane, what happened?" she whispered as he reached her. 

"I'm fine, Slugger. Just some bruises. Tyreese packs some power, and I said the wrong thing at the wrong time," he told her, reaching for her despite all his arguments that they stay away. 

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and he held her in place when she would have spun on her heel and stormed out. "I'll fucking kill him." 

"There's no need," Shane told her, pulling her close. She leaned against him, holding on tight, and Shane hated himself for not being able to stick to his resolve and stay away. It was dangerous for her, but goddamn it, he couldn't see that look in her eyes and not do something about it. "He's grieving. It's fine, and you should see what Rick did to him." 

"I did," Ace muttered. "Well, I saw Rick and his hand. He told me you were down here, and you'd been punched in the face. Also about what happened to Karen and David. Shane, what the hell?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," he agreed. "I don't know what happened to them, Slugger, but Rick and I will find out. And my face is fine, I promise. Sweetheart." He pushed her back enough to take her face in his hands and look her in the eyes. "I just want you safe." 

She sighed and pressed a kiss to his palm. "I know. But when are we ever safe, hero? I can't be sidelined all the time. I'm healthy; I've been exposed; no one beat me up recently. I'm in better shape that you are, Dickhead. I'm going to be involved, and I'm going to be at your side where I'm supposed to be. Deal with it." 

"Deal with it?" he shot back, amused as hell. 

She smiled at him and pulled him down for a kiss. "Yeah. Deal with it," she whispered, her lips against his.


	8. Lie #8: "It Was Daryl's Idea" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
mentions of past murder  
mentions of past miscarriage  
mentions of past child abuse

You sat in on the council meeting the next morning. You hadn’t asked anyone about it; you’d just walked up, sat between Shane and Merle, and waited. Since Sasha had gone into isolation, they were short a body anyway, you figured. 

Then Michonne did much the same thing and you grinned. She winked at you, leaning in the doorway as everyone settled into place and got down to business. 

"It's spread. Everyone who survived the attack in cell block D. Sasha, Caleb. Now others," Hershel said. 

You bit at your lip, reading the controlled worry under his calm, measured tone. Dr. S getting sick was bad. Daryl had brought him in, along with his stash of medical supplies from the small clinic he'd run before all this. He'd saved several lives and probably a few limbs as well, and now he was sick? Your best resource against the illness had caught it. 

Merle shifted forward, stabbing at the table with his finger as he met everyone's eyes. "It's lookin' rough in there, people. Doc S catchin' it too; that's a run of bad luck we cain't afford." 

"So what do we do?" Carol asked from across the table. 

"First things first, cell block A is isolation," Hershel said firmly. 

"Anyone shows symptoms, you get them down there," Shane agreed. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Carol, can you make sure we get meals down there safely?" 

"Use a cart, leave it outside the door. Someone can roll it in and out who's already got it. I'll deliver; I've been exposed," she agreed. 

You sighed, hesitant to be the one who said it but knowing someone needed to. "Not to butt in, since I'm not on the Council and all, but we tried isolation with Karen and David." 

"Yeah, what the hell we gonna do about that?" Daryl put in, tone slightly panicked. You got that. Murder wasn't something any of you had planned on in your little community.

Merle snorted. "Two damn pigs can look into it, right?" 

You shot him a glare, but he was looking over your shoulder at Shane and not paying any attention to you. 

"Yeah, we'll handle it. I'll get Rick on it, start makin' a timeline of who's where when. People, what are we gonna do to stop this?" Shane asked bluntly. 

"There is no stopping it. You get it, you have to go through it." Hershel had taken charge, as the only one with any real experience in diseases. 

You were grateful, but he wasn't hiding the worry in his voice very well. You started chewing on your thumbnail as you scanned the rest of their faces. The whole damn Council shifted in various states of worry. 

From the doorway, Michonne spoke up. "But it just kills you?" 

"The illness doesn't. The symptoms do," Hershel disagreed. "We need antibiotics." 

Shane groaned and muttered something under his breath, and you glanced at him as the coppery tang of blood flooded your mouth when you bit down too hard on your thumbnail. On Shane's other side, sitting backwards in a chair, Daryl tossed hair from his face and drummed his fingers on the table. 

"We've been through every pharmacy nearby. And then some. We picked everything clean." 

You blinked and turned to Hershel, picturing the map as you thought. "Hershel, the veterinary college, West Peachtree Tech?" 

He nodded. "That's my thought as well. They'll have everything we need." 

"That's fifty fuckin' miles. And Slugger, how the hell did you come up with that?" Shane demanded. 

You shrugged. "I'm the one that made the map, remember? Map's just another art piece. Fifty miles was always too much of a risk before."

"It ain't now," Daryl said firmly, slapping his legs and starting to rise. "I'm goin'. Merle, ya in?" 

"Wish I could, little brother," Merle said softly. "But I think I got me another destination." 

You turned slowly and looked at him, and he was pale and sweating. Your hand groped for Shane's and he held on tight to you as you stared at your big brother, clearly trying not start coughing. "No," you whispered. "No. You asshole, you didn't have to be exposed!" 

"Easy, Slugger," Shane said, running his thumb soothingly across your knuckles. "He'll be fine. Merle, get your ass to isolation. Daryl, pick a team and get out there. I'd go, but-" 

"Naw, ya stayin' here," Daryl agreed. "Merle, ya idiot." 

"Shut up, both of ya. Couldn't leave this shit up to the pig, now could I? Listen here, ol' Merle's been through worse than this. Ain't nobody can kill Merle but Merle," your brother said with a wink your way. He lost the battle with the coughing fit as you scowled. 

"I'm gonna kill you if you don't stop referring to yourself in third person," you snapped. Bickering was easier than dealing with the sharp, stabbing fear that you'd lost him. And you'd barely started being family again, goddamn it. "Go on to isolation, you idiot. Michonne, back out of his way." 

"Doesn't matter," Michonne said easily. Merle pushed to his feet, blew a kiss your direction and nod Daryl's, and headed toward the door. Michonne ran a hand down his arm as he passed, and your eyes narrowed on that with interest. "I'm going with Daryl." 

"You haven't been exposed," Shane objected. 

Michonne shrugged. "Merle's already given me flees." 

You snorted out a laugh, 'cause yeah, that one was good. Merle's answering laugh echoed from the hallway beyond, then dissolved into couching. Shane reached over and pulled your thumb away from your mouth, squeezing your fingers lightly.

"Ace, ya know what this place looks like?" Daryl asked into the silence after Merle's coughing. "Inside, I mean?" 

You frowned, considering. "Roughly? Sort of. The complex, anyway. Inside the actual buildings not so much. I haven't been there." 

"I can lead the way. I know where everything's kept," Hershel offered, rising. 

Daryl sighed, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and hesitating as he eyed Hershel. "Look, out there? Sooner or later, it's the same. We run." 

The old man glanced down and smiled slightly. "I can draw you a map." 

Daryl nodded once. "Good. Sis? Ya in?" 

You glanced at Shane and he met your eyes steadily, his jaw tight. But he didn't say anything. You touched his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch and nodding. "I've got to, Dickhead. It's my brother. And I know how to get there." 

"Wish you wouldn't, Ace," he said slowly, voice raw. "But I know you're right. Dixon, you watch her ass out there. You and Michonne both." 

"For the last fucking time, hero, I can take care of myself," you protested. A faint chuckle ran around the room and you rolled your eyes and scowled. "You know, screw all of you." 

"For the last fuckin' time, sis, we ain't that backwoods," Daryl shot back, and you slapped a hand to your face and groaned. 

"Ok, that's enough from the wonder twins," Shane said dryly, but he kissed your palm as he rose. "Daryl, Michonne, Ace- be careful."

"There are other precautions I feel we should take," Hershel put in. 

Everyone paused and turned to him, Shane waving for him to go on and reaching for the paper he'd been scribbling notes on. "Like what?" 

"There's no telling how long it will take Daryl and his group to return," Hershel began. "Wouldn't it make sense for us to separate the most vulnerable?"

"Administration building has separate offices and rooms," you offered. 

Shane scrubbed a hand over his face as Glenn spoke up. "Who is the most vulnerable?" 

"The very young," you said softly, glancing at Shane. Judith. Carl. Lizzy and Mika and the handful of other kids, all of them part of your art classes and so enthusiastic about simple things like chalk and finger painting. Kid things, the kind of shit they'd have done in preschool, but in the middle of the apocalypse, simple kid shit was a treasure trove of wonder.

Shane nodded, pulling you to him to hold you tight as Glenn asked about the old. "She'll be ok. We'll send Beth with her; Beth hasn't been exposed yet. Slugger-" 

"I know," you said, pushing back to study him. You ran a hand down his arm and poked him lightly in the side. "I know. I'll be careful. You too. Don't get sick while I'm gone." 

He snorted. "Come on, let's go get your gear. I'll get started moving the kids to the admin building." 

Merle looked between you and Daryl and crossed his arms. You fidgeted under his glare, biting the inside of your lip to keep from blurting out what had happened. Daryl nudged you with his elbow and Merle's eyes narrowed. 

"I saw that," he snarled. "Spill, Ace." 

"What?" you asked, widening your eyes innocently, the way you did when CPS came by asking questions. "I don't know anything." 

Merle loomed over you. "Ya don't know nothin' about how the bread dough I had risin' before school got turned into- into that?"

You bit your lip as you looked at the dough balls scattered around the kitchen and living room, the remnants of a brutal, bloody war. There'd been many casualties. You'd won.

You shot a look Daryl's way and he narrowed his eyes at you. You turned back to Merle, all set to deny it, but you opened your mouth and it came babbling out. "It was Daryl's idea! We were lookin' for something to do and we saw the dough and Daryl said it would be the perfect for indoor snowballs, an'- Merle, bein' sick is so fuckin' boring!" 

"Watch yer damn mouth, sis," your older brother snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shit. I had one fuckin' test, ya idiots. Ya just had to be good for three hours. There's fuckin' dough all over the place." 

"Yeah," you said, shoulders slumped. "I know. We're sorry." 

"Speak for yourself," Daryl muttered. "It weren't my idea. I won, though." 

You turned aghast eyes on Daryl. "You serious? We both know I won!"

"How the hell ya-" 

"Both of ya shut it! I don't care who won! We gotta clean this shit up before Will gets home," Merle snapped. "Shit. Ya fuckin' ten years old, you're too damn old for this shit." 

You chewed on your thumbnail, guilt overwhelming you. You did know better. You knew what would happen if Will came home and saw all this. You'd just been so bored. Being sick and home from school sucked ass, even if Daryl was at least sick with you. 

Merle started collecting dough balls, muttering under his breath about idiot siblings who don't fucking think. You shot an agonized look at Daryl, who just shrugged and got to work cleaning up as well. After a pause, you darted over to your big brother and wrapped your arms around him from behind. 

"Sorry, Merle," you whispered, letting go almost immediately as he stiffened. "We didn't think. We'll clean it up." 

You turned and got busy, bending and fishing a couple of wayward ballistics out from under the fridge. As you rose to dump them in the trash, something slammed into the side of your head. You yelped, whirling to see Merle with another ball in his hand and a gleam in his eyes. 

"Oh, no you don't!" you shouted, diving for cover behind the couch and lobbing a ball back at him. 

"What the fuck are ya- shit!" Daryl exclaimed, and you cracked up when he took the dough ball to the face. You winged one his way and tossed yourself cackling down behind Will's chair as both your brothers returned fire. 

"I'm scared," you whispered. 

The kids had gone into isolation, Carl pissed and being drug kicking and screaming. Beth had gone with them, carrying Judy while you, Shane, and Rick stood at a distance and watched. Shane's hand had clenched on yours as the doors closed behind the kids, and you'd fought back the sick churning in your own stomach to be strong for her dads. 

Now, though, as you checked your spare magazine and shoved it into your back pocket, you met Shane's eyes and let your own tears well up. "I'm so scared. So many people are already in isolation. There aren't many of us left who aren't sick, and now the four of us are going to leave? It's gonna be all up to you and Carol." 

Shane snorted and pulled you in, his hand tangling in your hair. "Yeah, but we can handle it." 

"I know. I mean, shit. You and Carol is like the Council at three quarter strength anyway," you joked, but your heart wasn't in it. "Shane?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart?" 

"Merle's sick." 

Shane sighed and eased down to sit on the bunk, pulling you into his lap as he did. "I know. I know, Ace. He's gonna be ok." 

You sniffed, dashing away tears impatiently. It was Merle. He irritated you more often than not, and you'd spent most of your adult life wishing he'd fucking leave you alone or bailing his ass out of jail. 

But it was Merle. He was your brother, the brother you'd taken more hits for you than you liked to think about, who'd gotten you your first art supplies. Who'd taken care of you when you'd lost the baby, and been there when you called for help with Malcolm. It was Merle, and now he was sick. "How the hell do you know? People have died from this already." 

Shane tugged his fingers through your hair, working out tangles. You sniffed again, trying to picture a world without Merle in it. It was bizarre to think, considering how little you'd talked to him for so many years, but you couldn't picture it. 

Shane pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You're gonna get medicine. He's tough as nails, your asshole brother. You really think he's going to let some disease bring him down?" 

"What is it with you men thinking you can will your way into being fine? It's a fucking disease, hero. You can't just beat it with brawn and stubbornness," you snapped, shoving up to glare at him. 

He flashed you a grin and ran his knuckles down your cheek. "Maybe not, but we can try."

"Asshole." 

"Yeah, I acknowledge that. But you've known it for awhile," he shot back, and your lips twitched in appreciation. 

"That's fair," you admitted. "Keep an eye on him?" 

"You know I will. Be safe. I mean it, Slugger. You get those meds and you get your ass back here. Whatever it takes," Shane said, tone suddenly hard and serious. "You think like we did on the farm, girl. Whatever it takes to come back to me. Promise." 

You blinked at him. Neither of you really talked about the farm, about Otis' death or the way you'd been ready, no hesitation, to shoot Randal. Hell, you'd fired the bullet and if Rick hadn't knocked you to the side, he'd have been dead. You still argued Rick should have let you, even knowing first hand now how killing a person fucked with your mind. It'd been a dark time, survival time, and both of you had pulled back from it in the months that followed. Malcolm's death had helped, for you at least. But that look was back in Shane's eyes now, and you touched his cheek with your fingertips as you searched his face. "Dickhead, what the fuck? Where's that coming from?" 

He looked away, shaking his head slightly. "This thing, with Karen and David. I look at Rick, and he's still messed up over Lori. How could he not be? And Tyreese, he's- he's all kinds of fucked up right now. And I keep thinkin'-" 

Shane tightened his arms around you and leaned his forehead to your shoulder. You curled against him, already knowing where he was going. You'd been thinking it yourself, after all. "Yeah," you whispered. "I know." 

"Naw, you don't," he muttered. You scowled, but he kept going. "Sweetheart, I was gone on you from that first flash of hair. You socked that asshole in the nose and I was fuckin' yours. Came into the bar with that bullshit drink order to impress you, not to try to stump you." 

You'd been running your fingers through his hair, lost in your own desperate fear of losing him, but that made you pause. "What? Really? It's been how many years and you never told me that?" 

He snorted and met your eyes again. "It's embarrassing, Ace. Besides, we decided to be friends, and I got used to you callin' me Dickhead. Figured it'd take away from it if I told you the truth." 

"Idiot," you muttered fondly. "You'll always be my Dickhead." 

"Yeah, yeah. Look, thing is, for as long as I've known you, I've known you were there. No matter what, I could come to you, for anything, sweetheart. If you were- If I lost you-" he cut off, and you watched that cold, hard expression settle on his face. "Shit, Slugger, if someone killed you like they killed Karen? No one would be left standing. I wouldn't wait around to find out who it was. And if I lost you like Rick did Lori, just the usual shit that's been happening since the damn world ended?" 

He pulled you in tighter, lips to your hair like he could breathe you in and keep you safe. "Shit. I told Rick he'd have to put me down. Not walker me, but human me. 'Cause I wouldn't be, not anymore." 

"Oh, shut up," you scoffed lightly. You kept your tone steady with effort, since the simple promise in his voice left you almost as cold as the knowledge that you felt much the same. If something happened to Shane, you would be first in line for the loony bin. "You'd be fine. I mean, I'd expect some serious mourning, maybe some weeping and gnashing of teeth, but you'd have Carl and Judith to look after." 

Shane shook his head, his tone as matching yours but his eyes still holding that edge of darkness that he'd had when he came back from the school with the supplies that had saved Carl's life, at the cost of Otis' life and, for awhile at least, a chunk of Shane's soul. "You're ridiculous, sweetheart. Just be careful. And get home." 

"Yeah," you said softly, curling back against him. "Point me in the right direction and pull the trigger. Right, hero?" 

"Yeah," he agreed. "Whatever it takes, girl. You just make it back to me. Come on, your brother's waiting."


	9. Lie #9: "Next Time, I Fucking Drive" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence

You slung a rifle to your shoulder and headed out to join Daryl and Michonne. Daryl glanced at you from under the hood of Zach’s charger. 

“Runs the best and the fastest,” he said, seeing your pained expression. “Gonna be ok?” 

You sighed and leaned into his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

He patted your back roughly and slammed the hood, then turned and hugged you better. “Zach weren't your fault. Merle’s gonna be fine, too. Sasha, Glenn, all of ‘em.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you agreed, bartender's smile firmly in place. “Come on, we’ve got a long ass way to go. Who else we taking or is it just us three?” 

“Me, if you’re sure.” 

You turned to Bob with a smile. “Hey! Why wouldn’t we be sure? Welcome aboard.” 

“After last time…” he started, looking at you dubiously. 

You were going to respond, but Daryl pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it up in front of Bob. 

“What’s this word?” your brother asked. 

Bob blinked and rattled off the medicine name with no hesitation. You started laughing, genuinely laughing, when Daryl grinned, slapped Bob on the back, and nodded sharply. 

“Yeah, we want you along.” 

At the last minute, Tyreese joined you, making it a party of five. You winced at the damage to his face, what with you knowing exactly how all that crap felt. You’d looked worse when the world ended, maybe, but shit. Man was a tough bastard to take all that damage and be up for a run like this. 

On the other hand, he’d punched Shane. Your sympathy faded a little when you remembered the bruise along your Dickhead’s jaw. 

Daryl drove, because of course he did, and you’d claimed the passenger seat to zero protests. Shane had jogged down ahead of you to the gate and slid it open at your approach, grabbing the pulley to swing open the outer gates as well. 

He held your eyes as Daryl pulled past, and you waved and smiled brightly to try to ease the worry in his eyes and the tightness of his clenched jaw. You twisted to keep him in your sight as long as possible, and he moved to watch your car from the fence before grabbing a crowbar and heading toward the current patch of walkers rattling the chain link. 

“They’ll be ok till we get back,” Michonne said quietly from behind you. 

“I know,” you agreed. “Shane's in charge.” 

Daryl snorted. “You two make me sick, sis.” 

“You’re just jealous,” you shot back pleasantly. 

Michonne chuckled faintly. “You Dixons are all the same. Can’t leave people alone to save your lives.” 

That made you laugh, and you turned your attention to her and your brother instead of stressing out over everything you were leaving behind. “Oh, you love the way Merle picks on you. You have to or you wouldn’t run off with him all the damn time.” 

“It’s not running off. And the lump invites himself,” Michonne muttered. Her voice was oddly embarrassed, but you caught the fondness in the way she called your older brother 'the lump'.

You twisted in the seat to look at her with narrowed eyes. Tyreese stared out the window, not listening to anyone’s nonsense, but Bob was smiling at you from the middle seat. Michonne had a faint blush rising on her cheeks and wouldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Dar,” you said slowly, smirk spreading over your lips. “Someone’s sweet on our asshole brother.” 

Daryl snorted. “We done talked about this, sis. Michonne’s got a crush on Rick. If anything, she and Merle are just fuckin’, but she don’t like him.” 

You gagged. “God, Daryl! Don’t even joke!” 

“I am not sleeping with your brother,” Michonne said at the same time, with an air of desperation. You noted the absence of the shocked disgust that you’d expected, and started to comment when the radio crackled. 

“… who arrive, survive…” 

You and Daryl shot wide eyed looks at each other and you leaned forward to fiddle with the radio. 

“Was that a voice?” Bob asked, bewildered. 

“Sounded like it,” you said grimly, leaning back as Daryl batted your hands out of the way. “Darrie, I fuckin’ did that already.” 

“Don’t call me Darrie!” He snapped. “Whatever it was, it’s gone. Ace, grab one of them cds in there; we’ll draw the walkers away from home while we-“

“Daryl!” You snapped his name and braced yourself, foot slamming down onto a non existent brake when you saw the walker in the road. 

Daryl proved he could fucking drive after all, whipping the Charger around and avoiding not only the first walker but the next three as well before slamming on the actual brakes at the start of a herd of them. 

“Way to pull a fuckin’ Lori, asshole,” you muttered. “Better back up before we’re surrounded.” 

“Shut up,” Daryl shot back. “Brace yourselves, everybody.” 

Daryl slammed the car into reverse and hit the gas, and he ran over the three walkers converged on the rear of the car. For a minute it looked like you’d get free, but of course the wheel got stuck in walker guts or brains or some shit and Daryl’s attempt to keep going only resulted in getting stuck deeper.

The herd was converging on the car and you pulled your knife and got ready. You shot your brother a look. “Next time, I fucking drive.” 

“Seriously, sis? Bite me,” Daryl shot back. “Hand me the crossbow.” 

You pulled it from the floorboard at your feet and passed it over. He glanced at everyone in the backseat as Michonne pulled her sword. 

“Bob, Tyreese, hit the gaps and don’t stop for nothin’. ‘Chonne?” 

“I’ve got a break on this side,” she agreed. “Head to the trees.”

“Sounds good. Ace?” Daryl grunted. 

“On your ass, Dar,” you said grimly, eyes on the walkers. 

The machinery's steady beeping usually faded into the background, but it was annoying the shit out of you today for some reason. On the other hand, you could have just been impatient and annoyed with life in general. 

The tv was out. You'd finished your last book the day before and Daryl had taken it back to your place when he left last night. Merle was running around somewhere, no doubt doing something illegal, and sleep was a distant memory. It'd been two weeks in this fucking hospital bed and you still couldn't get comfortable in it. 

The hole in your side, stitched closed and mostly healed at this point, was probably the reason. It'd made a good excuse for a lot of your low-key bitchy behavior, and you were going to milk it as long as you possibly could. 

But you were going home tomorrow, you reminded yourself. Your face was still a kaleidoscope of unnatural colors, your ribs were still broken, but the stab wound had been the worst of it. Now that it was pretty well healed, the doctors figured you had enough sense to keep yourself alive all on your own. 

You doodled restlessly, trying out ideas for the next installment in your 'Urban Decay' series you'd been doing around Atlanta. Two weeks of recovery was more than enough time between your last piece going up and a new one, and people might start to forget if you let it go too much longer. You'd done a zombie cop a few weeks back that had been wildly popular- you'd gotten a couple of decent sized commissions from that one- and your latest, the one where you'd painted the front of a Subway across from City Hall to look like a shambling, overgrown ruin, had gotten a couple of spots on local news, along with your photo and an interview with the Subway owner about why they'd agreed to the piece and what the Urban Decay series meant to them. 

You'd gotten some emails for an interview yourself, but landing in the hospital had put the kibosh on that rather spectacularly. So you needed a follow-up, and it needed to be superb. 

Sounds that didn't make sense started to trickle into your consciousness, jarring you out of your sketch and back into reality. Someone- several someones, from the sounds of it- was screaming. Maybe that wasn't exactly unusual in a hospital, but you couldn't usually hear it. 

You set your sketchbook aside and started the somewhat laborious process of getting up. Disconnecting from the various machines would bring a nurse, but that was fine with you. You leaned against the IV drip and headed slowly for the door to see what the hell was going on out there. 

People were running, you could hear now, and all the sudden the whole damn place went dark. You had just enough time for a startled "what the fuck?" before the lights came back up as emergency power kicked in. But something was seriously wrong. You were debating trying to find out what was happening or hiding, since you were beat up enough that you weren't exactly going to be useful to anyone, when the door to your room slammed open. 

You jumped, staring wild-eyed as your brother jerked the bandanna from the lower half of his face and looked you over rapidly. 

"Good, ya up. Get dressed and get the knife I got in there," he snapped, tossing you a bag. You caught it awkwardly as he ducked back out the door and hauled in a wheelchair. "Come on, sis, fuckin' move!" 

"Dar, what the hell?" you asked, dumping the bag on your bed and finding a massive hunting knife on top of a collection of your clothes and your paint-splattered Converses. "What's going on?" 

"Honestly? End of the fuckin' world. Dead people are tryin' to eat people. I ain't makin' this shit up, swear," Daryl answered. He was peering out your door at the hallway, and you suddenly realized he had his crossbow in his hands. 

But- what? The dead? "What?" you said, staring at him. "Daryl-" 

"Shit! Sis, get a fuckin' move on!" Daryl snarled, and jumped back from the door with his crossbow up. "They made it to this fuckin' level now. We gotta move!" 

Well, your brother had officially cracked, you decided, but you got your jeans pulled on all the same. Daryl muttered and watched the door and looked stressed as fuck, and then he darted to your side and slapped his hand over your mouth. You started to shove him off you, but then you froze as something shuffled by your door. 

It looked vaguely like a human, but it didn't walk like one. Then it pushed your door open and Daryl aimed, and in the two seconds that you had to see the thing's face before it had a crossbow bolt in its eye, your world turned upside down. 

"That- Daryl, that-" 

"Yeah, it's a goddamn zombie. Sit in the chair, we gotta go and we gotta go fast. Merle's waitin' on the street with the truck but it's bad out there, sis. Get ready to fuckin' fight. Ground floor's the worst."

You pulled the knife and held it in a shaking hand, still trying to figure out what the actual fuck was happening right now. "Damn it, the zombie cop was a damn metaphor," you mumbled as Daryl slapped his handgun into your other hand. "It wasn't supposed to be real!" 

You stayed right on Daryl's ass as you broke for it, Michonne on your other side covering Bob. Tyreese didn't move from the fucking car when the rest of you did, and Daryl grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the trees when walkers surrounded the big man completely. You stood unwavering for a moment, but then you turned and drove your knife through a walker's eye and got a fucking move on. 

You all knew the risks, and you knew what was at stake. You had to get these medicines, and you had to get back home to your people. To Merle and Glenn and Sasha and Doc S, who were counting on you. And to Shane. 

Daryl lead the way, the four of you rushing through the trees just ahead of the walkers. Stragglers kept coming out of nowhere, and Michonne's sword came in real freaking handy more than once on the way. Daryl slowed down so you could catch your breath, far enough ahead to look around for two seconds and get your bearings. 

You jerked a thumb in the general direction you needed to be going and Daryl nodded, but his eyes narrowed on the trees back the way you'd come. You heard it too, the rustling noise of something coming, and you got ready for more running. It had to be the herd, right? 

Then out of the trees, soaked in blood and grunting with every breath, came Tyreese. 

You couldn't believe what you were seeing. He'd fought his way out of that pack of nonsense, when you- all of you- had thought he was a dead man. That was one tough bastard, you thought. 

Daryl's crossbow twanged by your ear and the lead walker went down as it came through the trees. "Come on," Daryl grunted, and you were off again. 

Your brother had been right. Sooner or later, we run.


	10. Lie #10: “Everything Would Go Perfectly Smoothly For Them” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
Domestic violence/abuse

Shane went down to the tombs and checked the barricades they'd rebuilt after running the Governor out. It wasn't that he thought they were in any danger of being compromised, it was more just that with Ace gone he had to keep moving. He had to keep busy, and he couldn't fucking stand the thought of anyone talking to him right then. 

Not that there were very many people wandering around the prison still. Most everyone was down for the count, which was a truly terrifying prospect. 

Hershel had gone into the quarantine block to help, despite everyone's protests that it was a bad idea. Carl and Beth were in charge of the little ones in isolation, and Shane tried hard not to think about his daughter and how goddamn vulnerable she was. If Judy got sick- 

Shane tested the strength of a barricade and forced his thoughts away from that. Besides, Ace and Daryl would be back soon enough. Yeah, it was fifty miles, so it would take them a hot minute, but Shane decided right then and there that everything would go perfectly smoothly for them. They'd find everything easily and in abundance, get in and out with no problems, and make it back in time for supper. 

Maybe that was a bit optimistic, but Shane's fucking nerves couldn't handle the alternatives. 

When he'd checked all the barricades he moved onto the generators, which had enough fuel if not an abundance of it, and then there was nothing else to do down here. He knew he should go back up and no doubt hit the fence again, and he was heading that way when Rick came striding into C block with his cop face on. 

Shane frowned and crossed his arms. "I know that look. What's goin' on, brother?" 

Rick hooked his hands in his gun belt and stared at the floor, shaking his head slowly. Shane's eyes narrowed and guilt rose up as he realized this could only be about Karen and David. He'd forgotten about all that shit in his worry for Ace, and now he shoved a hand through his hair and moved investigating their deaths back to the top of his priority list. 

"It's Carol," Rick said finally, snapping Shane out of his spiral. 

Shane blinked. "What's Carol? What about her? She sick?" 

If Carol was sick, that meant Shane would have to figure out someone else to do meal prep, and since he was pretty sure the number of working, non-sick hands was down to a solid three pair without her- him, Rick, and Maggie- Shane had a feeling it would be him doing it. Goddamn it.

"No, she- she's not sick," Rick said slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his face and shot Shane an agoinzed look. "She did it. She killed Karen and David." 

Shane fucking stared at Rick for a full thirty seconds. Carol? Sweet Carol, who did his - and everyone else’s- laundry and who kept the place clean and taught classes to the kids with Ace? She had brutally killed two of their own, dragged their bodies out, and burned them? 

Then Shane thought about Carol with a rifle in her hands; Carol with her brass-knuckle knife taking out walkers; Carol teaching the kids how to use weapons during story hour when she thought no one would notice. (Shane had noticed. He didn’t care. Hell, he thought it was a good idea.) Coldly practical Council Carol, and yeah. He could see it. 

He heaved a sigh. "Well, at least that's solved." 

Rick blinked at him. "How are you- it's Carol. I never would have thought-"

"Rick, come on, man," Shane said with a shrug. "You know how it goes. Domestic violence, they're either perpetual helpless victims or they're some of the strongest people around. Ace has always been strong, but I'm starting to think we all missed the moment when Carol decided she was gonna be too." 

Rick shook his head and pressed his fingers to his forehead again and Shane sighed. 

"Look, what are we gonna do about it? That's what I want to know. We cain't let it stand 'cause Tyreese will have everyone's heads if we try. But- hold up," he cut off with a frown. "How do you know? What'd you find?" 

"I didn't find anything," Rick said with a grimace. "I asked her. She told me." 

Shane whistled and leaned on one of the tables. "Shit. She give a reason?"

"She wanted to stop it from spreading. Said she was tryin' to protect the group," Rick said slowly. 

Shane just nodded. Yeah, that sounded right.

"Unit 56, we have a 10-16, repeat 10-16 in progress. Caller reports children in the residence and shots fired." 

Shane hit the button for the lights and siren as Rick hit the gas, grabbing the radio on his shoulder to call in. "Dispatch, 56 responding now. ETA 3 minutes," he added as he pulled up the address on the computer. 

Rick took a turn practically on two wheels as dispatch rattled off more crucial information, and Shane sighed and shoved a hand through his hair before checking his gun. 

Two years on the job together and Shane had decided domestic disturbance calls were the worst. Rick said it was missing kids, and fuck that was a close second, but for Shane it was the domestic violence ones. He didn’t understand why the woman almost always cried when they arrested he piece of crap beating on her, though he knew he wasn’t supposed to make assumptions like that about who was the vic and who was the perpetrator. Facts were, though, most of the time he and Rick handled this kind of shit, the woman was black and blue and posted the bastard’s bail. And this time, there were shots fired and kids in the house. 

Fucking kids, man. 

Rick pulled to a stop and Shane was out the door practically before he had the car in park, pulling his Glock and scanning the house. Inside, he could hear the high-pitched wail of a small child. He and Rick exchanged glances and headed for the door. 

"King County Sherrif's Department, open up!" Shane yelled, banging on the door with his fist. He and Rick stood to either side of the door and waited.

It didn't take long for the door to crack open and a girl, maybe eleven or twelve, to look out. Shane glanced at Rick and lowered his gun, leaning down to her level. "Hi, sweetheart. I'm Officer Walsh, this is Officer Grimes. We got a call there was a problem here? Is your mom home?" 

She opened the door wider as a woman's calm voice came from further in the house. "Let the officers in, Callie. We're in the kitchen. Callie, go tend to your brother and sister while I talk to the policemen." 

Shane followed the little girl into the house, his gun twitching in his hand when he stepped around the corner and saw the body on the kitchen floor, the gun on the counter with the magazine placed beside it, and the woman with a battered face and blood in her hair sitting and sipping from a steaming mug. She had a phone to her ear and Shane heard Rick muttering into the radio on his shoulder as the woman met Shane's eyes. 

"Yes, the officers have arrived. Thank you very much. Yes, thank you," she said into the phone before hanging it up and placing it gently on the table. 

Shane offered a smile to the little girl as she moved past him into the hallway, where the baby's wails had faded to whimpers. "Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step away from that weapon," Shane said slowly, exchanging a glance with Rick. "I take it you made the call?" 

She rose, winced, and limped her way around the counter. "I did. I'm unarmed. The only other people in the house are my three children. My husband started beating me; threatened to beat Callie and Edward. Jack had his gun on him- he has a concealed carry permit; I can get you the paperwork- and I was able to get it from him. When he wouldn't leave and tried to go to the kid's rooms, I shot him. I'm reasonably certain he's dead." 

"He's dead," Rick confirmed from beside the body. "Ma'am, is this the first time he'd hit you?" 

She shook her head, the first emotion Shane had seen yet in her eyes as they slid from Shane’s and faint color rose on her cheeks. "No. But it is the worst, and it's the first time he's threatened the children. I couldn't let him- I had to protect them." 

Shane let out a long sigh as the ambulance pulled up and shoved his gun into his holster. "Let's get you checked out, ma'am." 

"Theresa," she said softly as Shane lead her toward the door. "My name's Theresa. Can you call my sister, to come get my kids? I know you're going to have to arrest me." 

Shane nodded, and pulled out his phone. "Go on and call her while they look you over, and we'll talk more after." 

Inside, Rick was looking over the body and the damage around the house. Broken dishes, a bottle, a knocked over chair- everything looked like it added up, and one glance in Rick's eyes showed he agreed with that. 

"Gonna have to talk to the kids, man. She's callin' her sister to come get them, so we don't have to get CPS out here right now," Shane said. Then he stopped and shook his head, closing his eyes. "Why stay? If someone smacks you around? Why stay till it gets this bad?" 

"Men like that, they get in a woman's head. Twist her up; make her think she's the one at fault. We see it all the time, brother," Rick said, squeezing his shoulder. 

Shane shoved his hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. Still don't fuckin' get it. Just leave. Especially when there are kids involved, man." 

"Yeah," Rick said grimly. "I know. She handled it, though." 

Shane stared at the dead guy, the blood pooling from under his head. Yeah, she'd handled it. And she sat outside on the tailgate of the ambulance while the paramedics looked her over, cool and calm as you please. 

He didn't get it.

"I'm taking Carol out on a supply run," Rick informed him the next morning. 

Shane grunted, stabbing another walker through the fence with a crowbar. He was fucking exhausted, and he leaned on the fence for a minute to catch his breath. He looked over at Rick. "Ok? I could use you here, brother." 

"Been out here all night?" Rick asked, giving him that stubborn bastard look. 

Shane shrugged, not in the mood for a fucking lecture. "Yeah, I have. Basically you, me, Maggie, and Carol keeping this joint running, and now you wanna take half my strength on a supply run? What the hell we low on urgent enough for that? Last I checked, inventory was fine for rations. Not great, maybe, but enough to get by. Wait for the others to get back." 

Rick shifted, his eyes sliding away from Shane's. "We need to go. I wanna see if we can scrounge anything up that'll help, until the others get back. I won't be gone long." 

Shane sighed and rubbed at his face, then grimaced when he remembered his hands were pretty well covered in walker blood. He scooped up the crowbar and jammed it through the fence again, since if he didn't keep moving he was going to sleep instead. 

"Ain't gonna change your mind, am I?" he asked Rick bluntly. 

Rick slapped him on the back. "Nope. I've gotta go." 

"Fine. Be careful. Better bring back something fuckin' useful, man. Make it worth it," he warned grumpily. 

Rick sighed. "Get Maggie out here and get some sleep. You look like shit." 

"Who put you in charge again?" Shane shot back. 

Rick shrugged and headed off toward the cell blocks again. "Just a suggestion, brother." 

Shane kept moving, kept stabbing. He wondered what the fuck Rick was up to, because he knew his partner well enough to know he was definitely up to something. Taking Carol, insisting he had to go right now- Shane wondered if it had anything to do with Carol killing Karen and David, but he was too goddamn tired and busy to figure out Rick right now. 

So he stabbed more walkers, only pausing to haul open the gates when Rick and Carol cruised down. He had fucking work to do, damn it. 

Maggie grabbed the other end of the beam and helped him jam it into place. Shane grunted a thanks and banged it down with a hammer, and Maggie stepped up to the fence and took out a couple walkers. When Shane moved to grab the next beam and drag it down the line, she scooped the back end to her shoulder and carried it with him. 

"I went and talked to Daddy," she said as they braced it against the fence. 

Shane shot her a glance. "He doin' ok in there? How about Glenn, the others?" 

"They're ok," she said quietly. "I'm worried, though. What if- Shane, what if Daryl doesn't get back? Or not in time?" 

Shane snarled and stalked away for the next beam. He didn't respond until he'd slammed the next beam in place and then stabbed a few walkers as well. He wasn’t fucking thinking about them not making it back. He couldn’t handle them not making it back. 

So it wasn’t a fucking option. He’d told Ace to do whatever it took, and she’d promised him. She was coming back. 

And they’d damn well make it in time because he didn’t want to think about the alternative either. Her asshole brother was in there, and much as she acted like she couldn’t ducking stand him, Shane knew she would be devastated if anything happened to the bastard. Plus Hershel and Doc S and Sasha and Glenn and all the others... 

Shane felt like shit when he thought about Glenn and the old man. Maggie had to be going just as crazy as he was, he thought. If not worse. At least Ace was out there up against walkers. Walkers were something she could fight, and fight fucking well. This disease? There was nothing Glenn- or Maggie- could do but wait and see.

He turned to Maggie with a sigh and touched her shoulder in apology. "They'll be back. Daryl and Ace, they'll make sure they get back in time. They’ll all be fine. Especially Glenn. He’s a tough bastard, just like your dad." 

Maggie smiled slightly, but it was strained around the eyes. "I know. They’re both so strong, and the tea’s helping. And Daddy’s not showing any symptoms yet. But-" 

"No buts," Shane said sharply. "Look, we gotta keep it together out here. We're it, in case you haven't noticed. Rick ran off with Carol on a supply run, and that leaves you and me to keep everyone in there safe. I need your head in the game, Greene." 

"It's Rhee," she huffed, sounding annoyed as she stabbed at a walker. "But you're right. Daddy always says we all have jobs to do." 

Shane snorted. "Alright then, Rhee. We're doin' everyone’s damn jobs, aren't we? Come on, help me with these beams. Get this fence braced, take out a few more walkers, then-" 

"Then you get some sleep," Maggie interrupted him. "Not gonna be any use to us if you collapse from exhaustion. We'll finish bracin' it, then you go crash out and I'll take on the walkers on the fence. I'll wake you in, say, five hours?" 

Shane stared out at the road and bit his lip, considering. But damn if she wasn't right. He'd be no use to anyone if he couldn't stay on his feet. "Make it three hours." 

"Four. Don't argue or I just won't wake you up at all.”


	11. Lie #11: "Mal Doesn't Have Anything To Do With It" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
past drug use/ OD  
mentions of past child abuse  
mentions of past domestic violence/abuse

You woke up when your pillow started jerking under your cheek, your brother's impatient voice muttering for you to get the hell off him already. You groaned, blinked in the morning sunlight, and scrubbed a hand over your face as you sat up. 

"What time's it?" you mumbled, taking the bottle of water Daryl shoved into your hand. 

He grunted. "It's mornin'. That's all I know. Come on, we gotta get moving. My fuckin' arm's asleep, so thanks for that." 

You rolled your eyes at his bitching even as he grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet. Michonne and Bob had their heads together already, and you stretched and looked around for Tyreese. He was down by the creek, washing out his blood-soaked shirt, and you took a minute to scan the trees for any sign of danger as Daryl joined Michonne and Bob in determining where to go from here. 

"Ace! Ty! Let's go," Daryl yelled. 

You started his way, but paused when you realized Tyreese hadn't moved. "Tyreese, come on," you called again. 

Daryl and Michonne had already started walking, talking to each other as they headed up the path, but Bob stepped to your side. You exchanged a worried look with him before he yelled at Tyreese too. 

The big man finally stood up and glared at you both. "What's the point?" he roared, loud and angry enough that you took a half step back before gritting your teeth and standing firm. 

Bob eyed you sideways, but you ignored him in favor of glaring down at Tyreese. It irritated you when you reacted like that, goddamn it. You didn't cower; not anymore. 

Not ever again.

"What the hell does that mean?" you shot back at him. 

He tossed his hands up and scoffed. "We lost a whole night. Everyone back there, they're probably dead already." 

You flinched at the hardness of the words, the thing you already feared in the back of your mind. You'd been thinking it all during your turn on watch, and it was only when Daryl had come and sat beside you and said he'd watch, just go the fuck to sleep already that you'd realized you'd been crying. Now Tyreese was yelling your fear at you with that not-all-there rage in his eyes, his hands clenched into big fists at his sides. 

Bob set a hand on your arm as you stared at Tyreese's hands, and you jerked away from the unexpected contact. You gritted your teeth and reminded yourself that old habits die hard, and you'd been wary of unexpected touches for your whole fucking life. That wasn't going to change any time soon, and you glared back down at the angry man who'd apparently decided everyone was dead as Daryl and Michonne doubled back. Daryl looking annoyed as hell fro the corner of your eye, and you didn't blame him. Shit, you were too. Your brother was waiting on you to get back there and save his damn fool life, after all, and Tyreese's angry theatrics were just delaying your progress even more. 

Bob sighed. "It helps to keep moving," he said calmly. 

Tyreese scoffed, but at least he was fucking moving now. "No," he snapped to Bob. "It doesn't." 

He stalked forward, shoving his way between you and Bob. Bob stood his ground, letting Tyreese's shoulder bump his as the other man threw his little tantrum, but you jerked back out of the way of the hot glare he leveled at both you and Bob. Bob rolled his eyes as Tyreese brushed past Daryl and Michonne as well to take the lead, half-laughing as he followed him up the road. 

You weren't laughing, because Tyreese's increasingly erratic behavior had you wary and on edge, and you hated it. But Merle was counting on you, so you drew in a breath, forced your shoulders to relax, and looked up to find your brother at your side and watching you with narrowed eyes.

"Ya aight?" Daryl asked quietly. 

Bob and Michonne were talking ahead of you, and you shrugged one shoulder, falling into step with him to bring up the rear. "I'm fine. Tyreese's fuckin' temper's gonna be a problem, though." 

Your twin hitched the crossbow up on his shoulder and snorted. "It ain't no worse'n ours." 

"Yeah, it is," you disagreed. "He's unpredictable. Violent. And he's fuckin' given up. That's a scary combination." 

Daryl eyed you and then Tyreese and grunted. "You given up?" 

"Naw," you told him with a toss of your head and a dismissive bravado you certainly didn't feel. "Merle's immortal, remember? He's fine. We'll get there in time. Right?" 

"Right," Daryl agreed. "Listen, I'll talk to Ty. Tell him to back the hell off around ya." 

You shot him a look. "What the hell for?" 

"'Cause, sis, ya got that damn look in ya eyes. He fuckin' scared ya, just now. I'll handle it," Daryl snapped, and sped up to reach Tyreese's side. 

You snatched at his arm to stop him, embarrassed that he'd noticed, but he evaded you easily. You grimaced and focused on watching everyone's backs, hoping whatever he said to Tyreese wouldn't be too damn embarrassing for you. 

You glanced at the clock on the dash and groaned, pulling the beanie from your head and tossing it into the passenger side. You were late, and you were going to catch hell for it. Especially since you were going to show up splattered in fresh paint. You'd been planning on having enough time to go home, shower, and change. 

The piece had other ideas, and you bit at your thumbnail absently as you pulled into traffic. But it was going to be worth it.

You'd found this overpass, see, with the perfect lines and the right exposure, and you'd been unable to resist. Five hours and a good deal of sheer dumb luck later, the overpass looked like a castle that had been constructed of cheerful, colorful LEGO bricks, and you'd done a LEGO royal family waving from inside a painted window. 

Honestly, you'd been one hundred percent certain you were going to get caught with that one, with the sheer amount of time and continued exposure. Of course, the fact that it was night helped with visibility.

But it didn't help with the fact that you were now thirty minutes late.

You yelled at yourself mentally for losing track of time as you pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine, then flipped the visor down and glanced at your hair, currently a light seafoam greenish-blue shade your hairdresser had been dying to test out. At least it'd been done last week, you thought as you grimaced at the yellow paint streak over your eyebrow and the blue smudge on the side of your nose. So it looked fucking awesome even if it'd been shoved into a hat for five hours.

Not that he would care. You flipped the visor back up, shucked your paint-splattered tank and yanked on the flannel you'd spied in the backseat, buttoning it low enough to show your lacy bralette and half-tucking it into your jeans to at least make it look somewhat like you'd made a style choice instead of a 'I'm running late, damn it' choice. 

Then you squared your shoulders, shoved a hand through your hair, and headed inside to see just how much your asshole twin was going to get on your nerves tonight. 

Daryl was leaning on the bar, sipping a beer and looking about as comfortable and happy to be there as he'd have been in front of a firing squad. He'd cleaned up from work, you noticed grumpily. Damn it. You were hoping he'd have been grungy. So he wouldn't be able to pick on you, you know. 

He spied you as you caught the hostess' eye, pointing toward your brother and catching her nod before you headed toward the bar. He glanced you over and shot you an amused look, and you rolled your eyes. 

"Don't start. I was busy; lost track of time," you said when you reached him. You leaned against the bar beside him and grinned as a familiar face came toward you from the other side. "Hey, Billy." 

"Hey, Ace," the bartender greeted you. This was Daryl and Merle's hangout, not yours, but you most of the long time bartenders in the district on sight if not by name. Professional courtesy- and maybe some scoping out the competition. "Whatcha want tonight, sweetie?" 

"Oh, I don't know. Just give me a local draft, would you? Whatever you got," you said with a shrug. You turned and eyed your brother, who was eyeing you back. "So." 

He snorted. "So." 

"Been awhile," you said, smiling slightly. Billy slid a mug down the bar and you caught it as Daryl's upper lip curled. 

"Yeah. Too damn busy with that asshole to return my calls, or what?" he asked, eyes flashing. 

You set your beer down carefully without taking a sip, feeling your jaw tighten and the familiar churning arguing with Daryl always gave you start in your stomach. "Already, Darrie? It's been two minutes." 

"Two minutes longer than I've seen ya in six months. Sent me like three texts. Ain't returned a damn one of my calls. Sorry if I seem a little grumpy, sis," he snapped back. 

Guilt warred with irritation, because he was fucking right. You hadn't called him back, and he'd called at least once a month. You'd texted him a few times, just a couple 'hey, how are you, I'm swamped' messages. Cop-outs, really. You hadn't wanted to contact him, because you hadn't wanted to fight with him. He'd been pissed since you hadn't gone to visit Merle in the hospital, and- 

"That damn asshole tell ya not to talk to me? Or ya just too fuckin' good for us now?" he asked. 

You caught the flash of hurt under his anger, and that twisted the guilt in further. Your eyes slid away from Daryl's and you crossed your arms, shifting irritably. "I don't think I'm too good for you. Just don't understand why you don't think you're worth more than just followin' Merle around and cleanin' up his messes," you muttered, falling into the old argument, even though you'd sworn you wouldn't do any such thing. "Mal says-" 

"I don't care what ya damn boyfriend says, sis!" Daryl exploded, his voice rising over the general sounds of the bar. "Ya fuckin' older brother was in the hospital and ya never came to visit. I wanna know why you didn't come." 

You glared, feeling your back stiffen as eyes turned toward the two of you warily. "Don't yell at me," you snarled. "I didn't come because he fucking OD'd. He wasn't sick or injured or anything, he just took too much of his own goddamn product. Like Will and his booze." 

It was a cheap shot and you saw it land, in the way Daryl tossed his head in disgust and shifted his feet. 

"Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, he did. Still coulda died. Guess that don't matter to ya, though, if he's just like Will. Don't matter he took care of us when we was kids." 

Your eyes rolled so hard your head started to hurt. "Dar, he wasn't-" 

"Around, yeah, I know. I know all ya arguments, and I know ya ain't never blew either of us off like this 'till after ya hooked up with Malcom Hall." 

You glared harder. "Mal doesn't have anything to do with it." 

"Really?" Daryl snorted and gestured wildly. "Malcolm fuckin' Hall always thought he was above us. He was just fuckin' slummin' with ya in high school, Ace, and ya knew it, and now ya makin' something of yourself, and he still treats ya like shit. Always cheatin' on ya and all. I swear, sis, he don't want anything real, he just wants to-" 

"Just wants to what, Darrie?" you interrupted him softly, blood pounding in your ears. You found yourself wishing Daryl had just punched you already, like you used to when you fought as kids, because God knew that would have been easier to take. "Just wants a good fuck? If that was the case, he'd have stopped putting up with me a couple years ago. Tell Merle I said hey, if you want." 

You turned and started to walk away, and Daryl reached for your arm. He paused when you jerked back out of his reach, shooting him a glare over your shoulder. His hand dropped slowly, and you saw the apology in his eyes that you couldn't- wouldn't- give a chance to make to his lips. 

You saw, but you didn't care. 

"It was good to see you, Dar," you told him. "I'll call you sometime." 

"Ace-" 

You kept going, waving as you hit the doors. Once outside, you blinked back the tears that burned in your eyes and headed for your car. You wanted to go home, shower, and forget. 

Mal was right, you thought duly as you slid behind the wheel and leaned your head back against the seat. You scrubbed a hand over your face and started the car, movements careful and precise. They didn't get it, and they didn't respect you. They loved you, but they saw you as their little sister they needed to take care of, not an adult fully capable of making your own decisions. You loved them, but you didn't approve of their lifestyle. 

It was easier to not see them. Not talk to them. You sighed, wishing it wasn't the case, but staying away was clearly the answer. For your own mental health, if nothing else, so you could avoid scenes like that one in the future. 

You just wished you didn’t miss them so much.

There were trees down around and on top of the gas station and garage, clearly from one of the storms that cropped up over the last few weeks. Shane had been worried about trees falling on the fences, but you'd reassured him the prison wasn't close enough to the trees for that to be an issue. You studied the way this tree had fallen, eyes narrowed as you peered between the branches. There was something back there, but you weren't sure what it was. 

"Darrie," you said absently, stepping closer. 

"Stop callin' me that. Whatcha got?" 

You gestured. "There's something back there. Can't tell what it is, but-" 

He grunted, studying the tree same as you, and a slow smile crossed his face before he bumped your shoulder lightly with his. "Good eyes. Let's go." 

It was a van, and you hovered as he fiddled with wires under the dash. Nothing was happening. 

"Are you sure you're doing that right?" you asked dubiously. 

Daryl shot you a glare over his shoulder as he tried touching two of the wires together again. "'Course I'm fuckin' doin' it right, Ace. My damn job. Shit." 

"Well, if you're doing it right, shouldn't it be starting by now?" you asked- entirely reasonably, in your opinion. 

He snarled, pushing you back as he slid from the passenger seat. "Battery's toast." 

"And that's… bad?" you asked, chewing on your thumbnail. 

"Is it- yes, Ace, that's bad, Jesus fuckin' Christ." Daryl shot you a disgusted look as he tried to peer into the dirty window of the garage. "Didn't Merle and I teach ya nothin'? Shit. We gotta find us a new battery." 

You snorted and grinned, pleased with the rise you'd been able to get out of him. "You taught me jack shit, asshole. Shane taught me how to hot wire a car though. Of course we need a new battery. Luckily for us, this is a garage. Should be able to find something that'll work." 

You shoved off where you'd been leaning on the side of the van, winking at a grinning Bob as you started around to the front to find the best way in. Daryl sighed as he followed you. 

"Ya such a bitch sometimes, sis. This really the time to be jokin' around like that? Fuck," he complained. 

You flashed him a smug look. "You're just mad because I fooled you." 

"I'm mad 'cause-" he broke off and frowned at tree branches all in front of the door, and the teasing smile slid off your own face as you studied it. "That's our best entrance. Gonna have to cut in, see what's back there. 'Chonne, Ty, Bob- slowly," Daryl advised. "You too, sis." 

"Duh," you shot back with a roll of your eyes. You pulled your machete and stepped up. "I'm always careful."

"Shit. Ya never fuckin' careful," Daryl muttered. 

Michonne laughed and stepped between the two of you, sword drawn. "Ok, children. I'm separating you now. I swear, you two are worse than the lump." 

"I resent that," you said cheerfully, and all of you got to work. 

Tyreese had obviously missed or just didn't give a shit about your 'go slowly' memo. He hacked into the branches like a madman, and you shifted slightly closer to Michonne in an effort to be sure you were out of swinging range. His goddamn temper was up again, if it had ever gone down, and you paid more attention to him from the corner of your eye than you were to the tree in front of you.

"Take it easy man," Daryl called to him. "We don't know what's back there." 

Tyreese, as was typical for him this whole trip, didn't even acknowledge that Daryl had spoken. Moments later, his blade got caught in something, and you tensed as he ripped it out. Wire wrapped around the tip, and he shook it off with a grunt. You relaxed a little and turned back, taking another swing at the branches yourself. The sooner this was over, the better, after all. 

And then the hand snagged yours. 

Michonne reacted instantly, her sword severing the hand before you'd done more than yelp at the touch of slimy skin. Daryl snarled something and danced back out of range of another hand, and then pandemonium rained as the garage's doors burst open under the weight of walkers throwing themselves against them. 

Michonne went Bob as you darted forward and sank a blade into the one that had grabbed Daryl, and Tyreese- 

Your teeth ground together as the other three yelled at him to let go of his. He stayed engaged, determined to rip the asshole from the branches. Of course, when he succeeded, it was to fall flat on his back with the dead bastard on top of him, going for his throat. 

You yanked the Glock from your side and put a bullet in the thing's brain before Daryl or Michonne had even moved. It collapsed over Tyreese and the other three looked at you, eyes wide. Daryl's were faintly approving, but you ignored him. You shoved the Glock back in your holster, hauled the corpse off Tyreese and tossed it to the side, and whirled back to him where he still lay on the ground. You glared down, your own temper rising snapping and snarling in the face of one two many incidents with him. He was endangering everything, and you were over it. 

"You idiot!" you half-yelled. "Are you serious? You damn near got all of us killed by not fuckin' listening!" 

Tyreese's eyes narrowed and he pulled himself to his feet, standing over you and giving you a death glare of his own. You were pissed now, though, and you didn't fucking care. He could loom over you with those clenched fists all he wanted; you had bigger fucking monsters in your closet and you weren't afraid of one semi-suicidal walking temper tantrum. You glared back, waving the machete you still held until Daryl plucked it from your hand with a muttered oath. 

"Oh, I get it," you sneered at Tyreese, ignoring your brother and the hand he set on your back. "Sasha's sick. Your girl was killed. You're on the edge, and I don't fucking blame you. But you're not the only one with people back there in danger, damn it! You're makin' things worse, you massive asshole. And I have someone to get back home to. Several of 'em, in fact. I've got a brother to fuckin' save, and a man I promised I'd get home to, whatever it takes. So fuckin' get your goddamn head on straight, cause I swear on whatever you find fuckin' holy- I'm getting that medicine and I'm getting home safe, and if you keep fucking with that, I will not hesitate to put you down."

You spun on your heel and stalked toward the doors. "Come on, Darrie," you said calmly into the silence. "We need a fuckin' battery."


	12. Lie #12: “I’ll Hit You Again” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence   
Canon typical violence  
Alcoholism and addiction  
Past child abuse

Daryl leaned over the engine of the van, disconnecting the old battery while you paced beside him and worked on settling your fucking temper down. You were still fuming, even after Daryl pulled you resolutely away from Tyreese and into the garage. 

Michonne took Tyreese to see what they could find in the gas station by way of supplies- this hadn't been intended to be an overnight and on foot trip, so you were running short of important things like water and food- while Bob followed you and Daryl and shot questioning looks between you. You mostly ignored his presence in favor of stalking around silently until Daryl found what he was looking for and gestured you back out again.

Tyreese had puffed up and come after you when you'd stepped away from him, and you’d been reaching for your knife when Daryl planted himself firmly in Tyreese’s path. He and Tyreese had engaged in a silent staring match while you glared over Daryl’s shoulder until the big man sighed, rubbed a hand over his eyes, and nodded at you once. He muttered an apology and turned away, and Daryl had hustled you into the building before you could do or say anything to potential make things worse. 

It had probably been a valid concern, you admitted now, considering you’d already threatened to kill the guy and had meant every word.

Bob leaned on the wall now, still watching the two of you, and you found yourself wondering how much he knew. He'd been picked up after all your injuries from your last round with Malcolm had healed, and so far you'd managed to avoid getting beaten up by anyone else. You were practically able to feel the question mark in Bob’s stare as he tried to figure out what had been going on under the surface of that interaction. 

You figured if he wanted to know badly enough he’d ask, so you closed your eyes and enjoyed the sun on your face, trying not to think about how much time was passing and how sick your brother and maybe even by now your lover might be. That wouldn’t do you any good, because if you were too distracted with worry for them to focus on what was going on around you, you could get yourself killed just as fast as Tyreese seemed to be trying to die. 

"Ace," Daryl grunted, breaking his silence for the first time since his sole 'ya aight?' in the garage. 

"Mmm?" 

"Got cigarettes in my back pocket. Grab 'em and give me one." 

You rolled your eyes. "Why? You've got hands, don't you?" 

"An' they're a little busy right now. Just do it. And yeah, ya can have one. Bob too," he shot back, shooting you a glare as he angled his hip toward you. 

"Well, if you're sharing, that's a different story. Lead with that next time," you told him, and Bob chuckled as you pulled the pack out. 

The nicotine helped settle the remaining churning temper, as both you and Daryl had known it would. You blew smoke in Daryl's direction and took the old battery from him when he hauled it out and handed it to you. 

You were trading casual insults the whole time, Bob laughing at you both, and you shot him a grin. "He's such a jerk sometimes," you told Bob with a roll of your eyes. 

Bob just shook his head. "You love him." 

"Course I do," you agreed. "We're family." 

"That's nice. Hold onto that," Bob told you. "That's important." 

"Yeah, it is," Daryl muttered. "Was a time ya didn't think so, sis." 

"Oh, don't start, Darrie," you shot back. "You'll just piss me off again." 

Bob's laugh was long and loud. "Oh yeah, you two are siblings." 

Daryl snorted. "How’d ya tell? You never told us about the group you were with. Before us.” 

You watched the smile slide off Bob's face as his eyes went distant. "Which one?" he asked.

You shot Daryl a look. “Nice going, asshole,” you muttered. Daryl made a face at you but you saw the guilty look in his eyes. 

He knew, just as you did, how asking about things before now could backfire. Nearly everyone your prison had taken in had come in ones or twos or a few tightly-knit groups of five or so. Never more than that, all of them grim and dirty and scarred in more ways than one. You’d heard stories that made your heart hurt and your stomach turn, and hell- your people had stories of their own.

"You know, when you found me out on that road, I almost kept walking," Bob said quietly into the heavy silence. 

You handed Daryl the jug of distilled water to pour over the dry cells of the battery before he could ask for it. "Why's that?" 

"I was done being a witness. Two times, two different groups. I was the last one standing. Like I was supposed to see it happen, over and over, like it's some kinda curse." 

Jesus, you thought. Your dead came flashing to your mind, Amy and Andrea and Dale and Lori and T Dog, the others from the camp before and now the dead from the prison, and your heart ached. You couldn't imagine losing everyone, only to find more people and lose all of them too. 

"But, when it's just you out there with the quiet…," Bob trailed off, blowing smoke as he looked away from you both. Then he sighed, gestured absently, and continued. "Used to be I'd drink a bottle of anything just so I could shut my eyes at night." 

Your hands stilled for a moment, cigarette halfway to your lips, and you glanced at Daryl. He'd paused as well, his eyes cutting to you, and you wondered if he too was thinking about Will's alcohol-filled breath on the back of his neck and the sting of his belt, or Merle taking up where Will’s addiction had left off, booze and drugs and trouble hanging around him like a cloud. 

You had a feeling he was, when he nodded almost imperceptibly at you and glanced back at the sound of Bob’s heavy sigh. 

"Figured the prison, the people. I thought it'd be easier," Bob said. 

You turned back to him reluctantly, the scar on your back tingling, and forced yourself to pay attention to him and not the past. It wasn’t like you didn’t understand. 

Bob met your eyes steadily, his filled with sorrow and apology. "The run to the Big Spot? I did it for me. I did it so I could get me a bottle. Of anything." 

Daryl handed you back the water and you took a swig from it, for something to do with your hands so they wouldn’t shake more so than because of thirst. 

"I picked it up. I held it in my hands. And that's when Ace suggested a- a better label. So I put it down," Bob said slowly. "I put it down so hard it brought the damn shelf with it. That's what brought on the walkers, and that's what got Zach killed."

The door slammed and you froze, caught like a deer in the headlights by what you saw inside your apartment. It wasn’t like Will beating one of your brothers- or you- was a new sight or anything, but he usually didn’t have your twin gripped by the throat, one eye swollen closed, and blood all over his face from his lip, his nose, his cheek. 

“What the hell?” You snarled, dropping your backpack as you started toward your brother. 

“Ace, don’t-“ Daryl choked out, and Will’s hand tightened on his throat so his voice cut off. 

“Shut up, boy! Girl, ya get your ass on to ya room and mind ya own!” Will yelled, pointing toward you with his free hand. His speech was slurred damn near beyond recognition, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, and you wondered if he’d sent something up his nose along with however much booze he’d downed tonight, since his pupils were pinpricks.

You almost did as he said. Every fiber of your being screamed at you not to argue or object, because that would just make it worse- for you and Daryl. But you saw the look in Daryl’s eyes and knew this was bad. This was worse than it’d ever been before, and you were genuinely scared your daddy would fucking kill Daryl. 

With Merle in juvie, taking care of each other was up to you. 

“Let him go, you big bully!” You snapped at Will, on the move toward them.

Daryl struggled against his hold, trying to get free and telling you to back off with the panicked look in his eyes, but you weren’t stopping. Your own temper was rising, hands clenching into fists like Will’s, if a thousand times smaller and weaker. You had to end this. 

You slammed into Will, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him off your brother. 

Will just laughed, backhanding you casually and sending you flying into the counter. Your breath went out in a burning huff as he shook his head and drug Daryl up by his grip on his throat. 

“Ya shoulda listened, Little Ace. Ya gonna have a turn when I’ve done finished teaching’ ya brother a lesson about stealin’ my fuckin’ cigarettes,” Will declared. 

Your eyes widened as he hauled back to hit your brother again. Daryl couldn’t take much more, judging by the glazed-Over look in his eyes and the way he’d gone limp in Will’s grasp. Your eyes fell on the frying pan beside the sink, and you were moving with no fucking plan as the smack of a fist hitting flesh made you flinch. 

The frying pan clanged into the side of Will’s head and he dropped Daryl. You stepped in front of your brother’s crumpled, unconscious body, eyes wide and chest heaving with panic as you squared off with Will again.

You were so fucking dead. 

He pulled his hand from his head and looked at the blood on his fingers, then back at you, and his eyes promised you were going to hurt. Your hands were shaking and you were scared so badly you couldn’t think, but Daryl hadn’t gotten up and you were all that stood between Will and your brother. If you hurt, you’d hurt. Wasn’t like it’d be the first time.

“Are you shittin’ me right now?” 

You held the pan up and tried to keep your voice steady. “I’ll hit you again. Just leave him alone, damn it!” 

There was no warning before Will moved, and your head cracked against the counter with the force of the blow. Will was muttering as he yanked the pan from your hand and tossed it to the side, and you blinked away stars and tried to scramble to your feet. It was no use, since he just grabbed your arm and tossed you back down, setting a knee in your back to keep you on the linoleum floor. 

You heard the rustle of leather through belt loops and squeezed your eyes shut against the tears, then forced them open again, turning so you could see Daryl on the floor from the corner of your eye as you braced yourself. 

Will ripped your shirt up so he could get skin, and you stilled. You’d lost. There wasn’t any point in fighting it anymore, and at least if he was focused on you he was leaving Daryl alone. 

You screamed with the first lash, and kept screaming until you passed out too. 

You stared at Bob for a moment in silence, and he wouldn't meet your eyes. Daryl took the water back from you and held out his carton of cigarettes. You took another one, lit it from the end of your first, and stabbed the fresh one out toward Bob. 

"That's bullshit," you declared bluntly. 

His eyes whipped to you, a question in them. Daryl snorted. 

"Yeah, it is. Bob, get in there and try the engine. Red and green wire. Go on, it ain't rocket science. Even fuckin' Ace can do it," he added, and you rolled your eyes. "Give it some gas." 

When Bob was in, Daryl looked back at you, a question in his eyes. You shrugged and made a face, and his lips twitched up. He leaned over and kissed your cheek as the van came to life. 

You shook your head at him when he whistled for Tyreese and Michonne, slamming the hood down yourself. Bob climbed out of the driver's seat and you gave him a long, cool look. 

"Daryl and I picked that spot. Sasha brought you with us. No way anyone could have known," you told him. "Hell, I got trapped. So it could be on me, right? But we can't do that. Not out here, not when people depend on us. I have a fuckin' bar. You wanted a drink, you could have one any time. You put the bottle back," you added softly. 

You scooped up some of the grocery bags of supplies Tyreese and Michonne had raided from the gas station, handing them to Bob to put in the van. "You aren't standing alone. Not anymore." 

"Come on, sis, let's fuckin' go, damn it!" Daryl called from the driver's seat. 

You rolled your eyes and flashed Bob a grin. "Never alone, even when you wish you were." 

Bob's smile back was haunted, but it was there.


	13. Lie #13: “Hope You Enjoy It” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
Alcoholism and addiction   
Past child abuse

By some miracle, you made it the rest of the way to West Peachtree without any more incidents. Unless you counted awkward and tense silence in the van the whole way there as an incident. 

You didn't, considering what you'd already been through this trip. So you decided to just be grateful you'd made it there. 

Daryl parked the van and you went in on foot, your eyes narrowing at the school complex as you mentally called up the map on the wall. "Ok, I think we're headed that way. Who's got Hershel's map?" you asked, gesturing toward the historic-looking building off to one side. "Pretty sure the one we want is back there and to the right." 

Daryl pulled Hershel's sketch and notes out of his pocket and passed them to you. "You're navigatin', sis." 

You nodded, turning Hershel's map to orient it with what you saw in front of you. "Yeah, ok, I was right. That way. Keep it fast and silent, troops; guns only if we have to." 

Getting in was, in your opinion, way too goddamn easy. By the time you'd reached the room Hershel marked- the learning lab according to Hershel's notes and the sign over the door- you were tense as fuck and wondering why in the hell you hadn't run into any walkers. Not a single one. It was uncanny. 

"Aight, let's make this snappy," Daryl declared. "Split up and clear it out." 

You cleared the lab easily, snatching a few bottles of basics like peroxide and rubbing alcohol, then hitting the pharmacy in the back. It was locked, as Hershel had warned you it would be. You and Daryl exchanged looks and you shrugged. 

"I don't know," you said. 

Daryl grunted and leaned around you to the desk, grabbing a paperclip and untwisting it. "Figured with ya fuckin' record ya knew all this criminal shit." 

"I painted walls that didn't belong to me, asshole," you shot back. "At most, I climbed locked fences. I didn't break into them." 

"Well, lucky for us," your brother grunted, looking up at you with his eyes dancing as he jiggled the paperclip in the lock, "Merle taught me. Got it." 

The door cracked open and you used the crossbow Daryl had handed you to clear the pharmacy as Daryl climbed to his feet. Michonne gave you an amused smile as you handed it back to Daryl and pulled out the list. 

"Bob, you're in charge now," you told him. "I can't say any of this shit." 

Bob grunted. "Anything that ends in -cilin or -cin, we grab." 

"That's easy enough," Michonne muttered, and you all got to work. 

Daryl and Tyreese got all the paraphernalia needed for IVs from the other supply closet while you, Michonne, and Bob loaded up the meds. You took a bag each when Daryl and Tyreese came in with multiples, then declared yourselves done and headed out. 

This was going way too well, you thought nervously. 

And then, of course, it wasn't. 

You were heading for the exit when walkers came snarling out of open classroom doors, blood dried on their emaciated faces and eyes burst like overripe tomatoes. Daryl led the way as you swept your flashlight over an exit sign, all of you moving as fast and quiet as possible. The walkers had your scent, though, and they closed on you much more quickly than anyone was comfortable with.

Of course, the exit sign lead to a locked door, so you turned off into a darkened classroom. The door was broken, Bob discovered, so he and Daryl wrestled a couple empty cages in front of it to hopefully slow the oncoming walkers down. 

The door at the far end was chained closed, and hands reached through the gap in them when you rattled the chain to test it. "Son of a bitch," you muttered. 

"How many?" Daryl asked. 

You shrugged. "Can't tell." 

"Other door ain't- yep," Daryl said with a sigh as the other door slid open and walkers stumbled in over the empty cages. 

"We can take 'em," Tyreese declared, raising the fucking hammer he'd picked up somewhere. 

"No! they're infected, same as the prison," Bob shot back. "We get their blood on us, breathe it in- we didn't come all this way to get sick!" 

"How do we know the ones behind there are any different?" Tyreese yelled back. 

You wished they'd stop fucking yelling, because it certainly wasn't making the situation any clearer. Daryl eyed the approaching walkers, then the door, and shrugged. 

"Gotta change sometime," he declared with impeccable logic. 

The good news was, one shot from the crossbow you held while Daryl broke down the door and a swing of Michonne's sword to behead the last two walkers, and the doors were clear. The bad news was, the stairwell down the hall was locked and you were dead-ended with bloody-eyed walkers coming up fast. 

"We don't have an exit," Michonne declared grimly. 

You and Bob hurled chairs and whatever else you could find into the walker's paths, trying to slow them down, so you weren't looking when your brother snapped "so we make one." It was such a Daryl thing to say that you laughed and glanced over your shoulder to see Tyreese proving he wasn't entirely useless and hurling a fire extinguisher toward the massive window. 

"Ace!" Bob yelled. You whipped back toward the walkers in time for one ugly, bloody bitch's fingers to brush your face and her mouth to come at your nose wide fucking open. 

You yelped, ducked, and shoved her backwards. As you scrambled back to get away, Bob fired a wild shot from too damn close and your ears started ringing. You froze, breath catching and Will's belt snapping in the back of your mind, and Bob fired again. 

That time the bitch went down, but there were more of them coming and someone yelling your name, and you forced your head to turn slowly toward Daryl's urgent voice. He grabbed your arm, hauling you to the window. 

"Sorry sis, ain't got time for ya to freak out on me. Ya can blubber all over me later, promise; just fuckin' get out there to the walkway below," he snapped. 

You bit down on your cheek, hard enough for the coppery taste of blood to fill your mouth, and the world quit feeling like you were inside a fishbowl. "I'm good," you informed Daryl. "But I'll take you up on the blubbering later." 

Daryl snorted as you balanced in the window and eyed the distance to the ledge. "Whatever. Just go, come on." 

"I'm going, I'm going," you mumbled, and jumped. 

Michonne came next, then Daryl and Tyreese. Bob was the last one out, and he overshot it. You saw the moment he hit wrong, his knees and ankles buckling and sending him to his stomach on the walkway. He held a bag in his hand and it fell, dangling over the side and damn near taking him with it. 

Especially when the walkers grabbed it and started pulling. 

"Dar," you snapped, already moving back to Bob. He had medicines; that's what you were here for. You needed his fucking bag. 

Bob slid toward the edge as more walkers got hold of the bag, and you promptly dropped down beside him, leaning down head first with him to grab the bag and try to wrestle it away from the grasping undead hands. You had your knife in one hand and you plunged it into the eye of a walker, the thing dropping like a stone and taking your fucking knife with it. Your momentum swung you further forward a bit, and you started to scoot backward to a more stable position.

"Damn it, Ace!" Daryl snapped, and you felt hands grabbing at your waist to hold you in place as well. 

The fucking walkers were strong, so you were pretty glad for the anchor. 

"Just let go of the bag!" Daryl snarled. Michonne and Tyreese were saying the same things, but you shook your head and held on with stubborn determination. 

You scooted against Daryl's grip, leaning out just a little further so you could hook the bag better, and- 

"Shit!" 

You started to fall, saw it happening and said a quick apology to Shane for not making it back and to Merle for not saving him like you'd said you would, but just as suddenly as you were falling you were jerked back up and to the side, on the platform. Daryl snarled a string of vicious curses in your ears, but you were focused on Bob and the bag that he somehow, miraculously, managed to get free and fling up onto the path as well. 

Your brother's cursing cut off abruptly at the clinking from inside the bag as it hit the walkway near you. He stood and held out a hand, pulling you to your feet where you promptly bent half over and tried to decide if you wanted to puke after that near death experience. You'd almost settled on no, but you weren't one hundred percent convinced of that yet. 

Daryl pulled the bottle from the bag and you decided you were going to puke real quick after all. You leaned over the edge of the walkway and heaved, then shoved upright and swiped a hand along your mouth as your eyes narrowed on the Wild Turkey in Daryl’s hands. 

"Got no meds in your bag? Just this?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice. "Maybe you should have kept walkin' that day."

You looked at Bob, his head hung in shame, and you went for your knife before you remembered it was in the eye of one of the walkers down below, where you'd plunged it trying to help this alcoholic bastard stay alive and keep hold of the meds. Meds that, you remembered abruptly, you'd all piled into the bag Michonne had over her shoulder, one hand settled protectively on the top of it as she stared at Bob with hard eyes. 

Daryl scoffed and started to throw the bottle, and goddamn if Bob's hand didn't go to his gun as he snapped "Don't." 

You took three long strides, and it was only the grip you had on Bob's shirt that kept him on the ledge when your fist slammed into his face. You hauled back for another punch, and when he flinched you ripped the gun from his holster and pointed it at his goddamn head. 

"Sis, wait," Daryl snapped. He stalked forward, bottle in hand, and got up in Bob's space, forehead pressed to the other man’s. 

Bob wouldn't meet his eyes, and you stuffed his gun through your belt at the center of your back to keep from shooting him between his. Your hands were shaking as it sank in that you'd just damn near died for a bottle of fucking booze. Fucking booze.

You’d almost broken your promise to Shane to make it back to him so Bob could get his drunk on tonight.

"Let it go. Man's made his choice. Ain't nothing you can do about it except let it go," Tyreese advised. 

You snorted, still pissed at Tyreese and his fucking inability to keep his shit together as well. Wasn’t like Tyreese had much room to talk about making choices and letting things go, after all. Besides, he didn't get it. He saw a bottle; you saw a series of them, smashing into walls and shattering, placed oh-so-precisely down onto counters or tipped dangerously up to hard-set lips. He saw a personal risk, Bob almost dying for his own choices, and you saw the split second where you'd known you were breaking that important promise. For fucking booze. 

"Oh, I could do something about it," you disagreed coldly. "I should do something about it. See, I know men like him. Sooner or later, his choice? It'll get someone hurt." 

"It already did," Daryl snarled. 

"No," Bob said quietly, head still down in shame. "I didn't- wasn't nobody supposed to get hurt. It was just for when it got quiet." 

"My sister already was!" Daryl snarled. "Could have been killed, both before and just right fuckin' now, takin' a header into those walkers for your addict ass. And Zach fuckin’ died for you last time ya wanted some!”

You touched Daryl's arm and took the bottle from his hands, flinching at the reminder of the kid who'd been bitten saving your life just days before. Bob's eyes cut guiltily to you as you hefted the bottle. You tossed it up, flicking your wrist in a practiced move, and caught it as it came down. Bob's eyes tracked it, his shoulders jerking as it took to the air, and you saw the slight, relieved part of his lips when you caught it.

"Wild Turkey's a good label," you said slowly. You slapped the bottle into Bob’s hands and scoffed as he fumbled to grab it before it fell. "Hope you enjoy it." 

"Ya take a one sip, and when those meds get into our people? I'll beat your ass into the ground," Daryl growled. "Or worse, I'll let Ace do it." 

You flashed Bob a cold smile and followed Daryl along the ledge without another word. 

“Sis?” Daryl’s voice was a hoarse whisper as you swam to consciousness. 

Your first coherent thought was that your back was on fire. Your second was that your head was exploding.

Then the fight- Will’s hand around Daryl’s throat, your brother’s unconscious body in the corner of your eye, Will’s knee keeping you pinned down- rushed back. 

“Dar?” You gasped out, shoving up from the bed in your desperation to be sure he was ok. Your back exploded into a pain you couldn’t even describe when you twisted from your stomach, eyes searching for him. Blackness with brightly colored spots swirling around in it replaced anything resembling your normal vision, resolving into Daryl’s battered face as a pained whine you hoped wasn’t you but knew was sounded.

Oh god, everything hurt. Your back, your head, looking at your brother’s face- it all hurt. 

“Hey,” he whispered, his hand on your shoulder. One eye was swollen shut and the other filled with barely contained fear, searching your face as closely as you searched his. “I’m aight; don’t fuckin blubber. Or move to fast. He fucked ya back up good, sis; I’m sorry. Did the best I could, but I can only see out the one eye, so I dunno how it’s gonna heal.” 

“Dar, shut up,” you demanded, fear and guilt making you bitchy. Tears burned in your eyes at the raw sound of his voice and the damage to his face, and here he was talking about you. He would have died, and you’d only barely been able to do anything about it, and he was doing first aid on you while he looked and sounded like that. “He- he was gonna- Darrie, he’d have killed you.”

Daryl sighed and leaned his forehead to yours. “I’m aight. I’d have been fine. Shouldn’t have come at him. What the hell were ya thinkin’?”

You scoffed at that and felt the first tears fall. That was your idiot brother, sure enough. Too damn busy being overprotective to realize- or admit- he’d been fucked. “I was thinkin’ someone was trying to kill my brother and he was gonna have to go through me first.” 

“Will fuckin’ tried.” 

You shrugged and held in the scream that motion wanted to provoke with difficulty. It didn’t matter. You were alive, Daryl was alive, and your back would heal eventually, so it was fine. As long as Daryl wasn’t more hurt than he was admitting. “He didn’t, so I’ll take it. Didn’t kill you either, which makes it a damn win. You need a doctor?” 

Daryl shook his head, the worry still in his one open eye but the blind fear having thankfully faded some. “Naw. Shit, sis, ya back gonna scar. I’m sorry.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. Fuck your back. Your back didn’t matter; had he even seen his face? “Don’t matter, Dar.”

“Yeah, it does. Saved my hide,” he answered softly, grabbing your hand and squeezing. 

“Course I did. We’re family.” 

He grinned at that and flopped backward on your bed. You laid back down gingerly, on your stomach, and studied him. His lips twitched as he studied you right back, and you lifted an eyebrow at him in question. 

“Fuckin’ frying pan. That’s pretty badass there, lil sis,” he said, the teasing in his tone at odds with the rough, broken-glass sound that seemed to be all he could manage.

“I’m five minutes younger than you, jackass,” you muttered, but you were smiling faintly. You were ok.


	14. Lie #14: “He’d Only Partly Meant It” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence

Shane was back on the fence after a few hours’ sleep, stabbing away with Maggie in strained silence, when Rick's car pulled up. He glanced at her and hooked the crowbar back onto the chain link, heading for the pulley as Maggie went for the gate. 

Rick stopped right inside, climbing out of the car alone, and Shane's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

"Where's Carol?" Maggie demanded, fear in her voice and in her face. "Rick, where's Carol?" 

Rick glanced from her to Shane and took her hands. "She's alive. Maggie, she's alive. But I-" 

"You left her out there," Shane said, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Of course he did. Shane had known something was up, and now he wished he'd fucking taken the time to ask, because wasn't this just so typical? 

"What? Why would you do that?" Maggie demanded, looking between them wildly. "Shane? Rick? What's going on?" 

Rick sighed, shifted on his feet, and met Maggie's eyes with his stubborn bastard look firmly in place. Shane scoffed, crossing his arms and waiting to hear how Rick explained this one. 

"Maggie, she- Carol was the one who killed Karen and David. I couldn't have her here. Not after that. Could you?" Rick asked, and goddamn was his friend persuasive. 

Shane found himself almost agreeing, even though he knew damn well that abandoning one of their own out there was the wrong fucking choice, even if she had killed people. He shook his head, jaw tight, and tried to figure out what to say as Maggie stared at Rick blankly. 

She turned and looked at Shane. "Are you sure?" 

"We are," Rick answered when Shane just shrugged. "She told me. She admitted it." 

"Then…" Maggie trailed off, looking tortured. 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair and snorted derisively. "Naw. Wrong choice, brother." 

"How?" Rick snapped, glaring at Shane. "How can you say that? She sacrificed two people." 

"For the good of the group," Shane answered firmly. "She-" 

"She burned two people!" 

"And I shot Otis and fed him to walkers to save your son!" Shane snapped. "I'm still here. Wanna kick me out next? Huh? Without consulting anyone? You decided you weren't in charge of the fuckin' place anymore, Rick. You don't get to make these choices, remember?" 

Rick shook his head, jaw working, and stepped closer to Shane. "Brother, what you did, what she did- it's not the same. You did it to-" 

"To save Carl. Carol did it to save the whole damn prison. You're right; it's not the same," he said flatly. "Only difference is, it worked for me. It didn't for her. You should have talked to me." 

"You've been after me to start leading again for months, now I make a decision and you don't like it and I should be talkin’ to you first?" 

Shane scoffed again and shoved both hands through his hair. "She's one of ours. We don't abandon our own." 

"We don't kill them and set them on fire, either!" 

"Enough!" Maggie snapped, stepping between them when Rick and Shane went nose to nose. "We do not have enough hands around here for you two to start punchin' each other! Carol's- Carol's tough. She'll be fine. Now, we've all got jobs to do. Rick, I need your help on the fence. Shane, go check in with Daddy and the others. We haven't been down in a few hours." 

Shane glanced at her and then away, guilt stirring when he remembered she'd known Otis all her life and here he was talking about feeding him to walkers to save Carl. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, the closest he could come to an apology, and nodded, heading up the path. 

He was still fuming when he stalked into the dark observation room. Death row, what they were using for isolation, always freaked him the fuck out- probably because he'd had an arrest he'd been part of go to death row and had attended the execution. It wasn't that Shane was particularly religious or was against killing people who needed it, but the death penalty? Well, he'd told Slugger once it was colder and harsher than just taking a man's life in the heat of the moment. It was still the most brutal thing Shane had ever seen, and he’d been beheading and stabbing and shooting rotting reanimated corpses for the past year and change.

Merle Dixon was one of the last people Shane had expected to find himself checking up on, and he certainly hadn't expected to be worried about the bastard when he came staggering in, coughing up a lung and sweaty. Shane shoved a hand though his hair and stepped closer to glass, waiting for Merle's coughing fit to ease. 

"Hey, Dixon." 

"Pig," Merle shot back. "How's it look out there? They back yet, my sis and brother?" 

Shane sighed and shook his head, worry for Ace he'd been shoving into the back of his mind coming screaming to the forefront again. "Not yet, man. Shouldn't be long now though." 

Merle just grunted. "Know ya didn't come down here just to check on my ass. What's wrong up top?" 

"Why wouldn't I just come check on you? Practically my brother-in-law," Shane muttered, slightly offended. 

Merle laughed until he started coughing again, and Shane saw him spit blood this time. "Ya make an honest woman outta my sister when I wasn't lookin', pig?" 

"Shit. I tried." Shane leaned against the glass, thinking about Ace's surprised face when he had, and smiled as he remembered her calling his bluff and turning him down. He'd only partly meant it; he wanted to spend forever with her and damn well would, but marriage was a big-ass deal. She was right, as usual- if he asked her for real, he would damn well mean it. 

"Did ya now? Cain't believe she turned ya down. Maybe she don't like ya as much as I thought." 

"Didn't turn me down," Shane grumbled. "She had a list of requirements. Said I'd better be sure and we'd better be able to do it right. Happen to know any justices of the peace still living?" 

Merle snorted. "I know who you know, asshole." 

"Fair point," Shane said with a grin. "How's everyone doin' in there? Glenn, Sasha, Hershel?" 

Merle grimaced, coughed some more, and slumped against the window. "Still breathin'. Gettin’ rough. Need that medicine. What's wrong, pig? Spill it." 

Shane started pacing again, wondering how much of this to tell Merle. Thing was, the bastard was on the Council too, and with Carol gone Shane was the only Council member left standing topside. And as Rick clearly wasn't listening to him, he needed the advice. 

"Rick figured out who torched Karen and David." 

Merle's eyebrows shot up. "Who?" 

"Carol." 

Merle whistled. "Damn. Go Carol." 

"Yeah, that's what I said. Only Rick don't seem to agree that she was lookin' out for the group, and he- he fuckin' banished her. Took her out for a supply run and left her out there. Says she's fine, and it's just for a little while, but shit. He ain't in charge of this place. He made that damn clear. Then he just goes off being judge and fucking jury again, kicking people out!" Shane tossed his hands up with a growl of frustration. 

Merle started coughing again, and he slid down the glass to the floor as standing became too much effort. He spat blood toward a corner of the room and leveled Shane with a glare. "Look here, ya idiot. Carol's a tough bitch, and Rick had to do somethin'. She killed people; cain't let that go unpunished. Yeah, he shoulda brought it to you, but he didn't. Tough fuckin' nuggets." 

Shane sighed. "I know he couldn't just let it stand, but-" 

"Shelve the domestic shit," Merle snapped. "Ya pissed he didn't talk to ya after you been up his ass about leadin' for months. Get over it. Got bigger fuckin' issues than ya marital drama."

Shane contemplated being offended, but finally decided it wasn't worth it. "Bigger issues like what?" 

"Like those of us doin' an exorcist routine in here," Merle snapped, waving vaguely toward the rest of A block. "Now shut up an' listen. I wrote some shit for Ace and Daryl. It's under my pillow, just in case. Make sure they get it, if they don't get their asses back here and save my bacon." 

Shane leaned against the glass and started to speak, to reassure Dixon that wasn’t going to be necessary because they’d be back soon enough, but Merle steamrolled over him. 

"Look, ya ain't half bad for a damn pig, and ya make my baby sister happy. Keep it up or I'll haunt ya ass." 

Shane stared at Merle blankly for a minute, trying to figure out just what the hell that meant and how to respond. The funny thing was, he didn't doubt for a minute that the older Dixon would, in fact, figure out a way to haunt him. Which was why he was at such a loss. "I don't even know how to respond to that, man," he said finally. 

Merle laughed until he started coughing again. "Like I said. Ain't half bad. Take care of 'em if I don't make it outta here." 

"Shut up with that. Ace'll kill you if you die on her in here," Shane muttered, not meeting the bastard's eyes. 

Wouldn't do for Merle to know his 'ain't half bad' actually meant something to Shane. 

"Little sis'll try, that's for sure," Merle said, far too cheerful for someone talking about his own death. "Now get on back topside and keep things runnin'. Gotta go help the old man some more. Doc S ain't doin' so hot. Keep it together, Walsh." 

"Yeah, yeah. Get some rest, Dixon." 

Shane spent the rest of the day running around keeping the place standing, ending up back on the fence with Maggie and Rick and an increasing herd of walkers that was really starting to worry him. Evening fell as the three of them worked in stressed silence, Shane stuck in an infinite loop of worry over Ace and Daryl, over their people in isolation, over the walkers, over Carol. 

He glanced at Rick when his partner worked his way down the fence to him. “You made a choice,” he said abruptly. “Wasn’t my choice and shit knows I don’t agree with it- hell, I think it’s stupid and hypocritical- but I’ve been asking you to start making choices again for ages.” 

“I should have told you before I left. You’re right; I didn’t- didn’t want to be makin’ those decisions anymore,” Rick said slowly. 

Shane slapped him on the back once and stabbed another walker. 

“They should have been back by now.” 

Shane grunted and stabbed again, trying to pretend he hadn’t been thinking the same goddamn thing. Maggie set a hand on his arm when he started to go for the next one, and he sighed as he looked at his feet instead of at her. He couldn’t let her see how worried he was. Someone had to keep it together, and it looked like that was his fucking job for some reason. 

“They’ll be back,” he said shortly. 

She leaned in and hugged him, and Shane froze at the unexpectedness of it. Somehow, though, it was exactly what he needed, and he hugged her back hard. 

“Sorry about what I said earlier. About Otis. I know he was one of yours,” Shane said quietly. “Sorry I did it, too, but mostly just sorry I said it like that in front of you.”

Maggie shrugged. “Bygones. I mean, I wanted to kill you a few times. But people can change. Banishing Carol- I don’t know if it was the right thing or not. But Rick’s comin’ back, and that’s a good thing, right? We need him. We need both of you.” 

Shane huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess. We do need him.” 

“We need you too. You don’t have to be strong all the time,” she said, shifting topics abruptly. “I know you’re worried too. Ace is out there. You can say it. You don’t have to keep it together all the time.” 

Shane laughed harshly. “Aight. I’m worried. They should be back.” 

“They will be,” Rick said. Shane glanced behind him as Rick walked up and set a hand on his shoulder. “They will be.” 

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, and hooked an arm around Maggie for another quick hug. “They will. Soon.” 

Gunshots echoed from somewhere inside.

“Go.” Shane and Rick said it at the same time, in the same grim tone, and Maggie didn’t hesitate. 

Shane looked at Rick and then at the fence, and beyond it to the trees where more walkers came stumbling toward the prison, drawn by the shots. He turned back toward the prison, where more gunfire echoed, and tried to figure out what the hell to do- help their people inside or stay on the fence. 

Then the fence started caving in as full dark fell, and that decision was made for him. 

“I need your help, brother,” he told Rick firmly. “Grab your gun and come on.” 

“At your back,” Rick agreed. “Gotta brace the fence.” 

“With what? We’ve already braced it. Rick, we’re gonna- shit,” Shane finished in a deadpan imitation of Ace’s things-just-went-to-crap voice. As he watched, the fence bent under the weight of the walkers and one crawled over and into the guard run. 

“Shit,” Rick echoed. “Guns?” 

“Here,” Shane answered, reaching into one of the rolling laundry bins they’d stocked with guns and scattered along the fences. “Rick, get Carl. We need more hands.” 

Rick caught the two rifles Shane tossed him and looked agonized. Shane chucked extra magazines to him as well and slung two guns over his own shoulder. Pockets full, he glared Rick’s way. 

“Don’t have time to argue, brother. Get Carl or we lose the yard,” he said bluntly, and jogged toward the breech. 

He had walkers to kill. 

It was fast, though he didn’t realize it until later. To Shane it was all in slow-motion, an endless wave of the dead that swarmed the fence, flowed through the guard run, and boiled into the yard. He planted himself on the path, raised the rifle to his shoulder, and vowed to take as many of the fuckers out as he could before he had to give up the yard or turn this into a last stand situation. 

He didn’t know how many he dropped on his own, but no matter how many it was more just kept coming. He emptied one gun and let it fall at his feet, then slung the second one around and got back to it. Two shots in, Carl appeared at his shoulder, Rick’s voice gun range-steady as he showed the kid how the military-grade rifle worked. 

Five shots later, Carl took up a good stance, set the butt against his shoulder, and squeezed the trigger. 

Shane decided to pretend he didn’t hear the way “holy shit” came out in a slightly awed voice. Carl’d earned it, Shane figured. He spared a second to flash the kid a grin and share a nod with Rick, then it was back to shooting. 

When his second gun ran out of bullets, he pulled another magazine from his pocket, slammed it into place, and fired some more. 

And just like that, it was over. The last walker fell, the world went silent, and they’d done it. They still had the damaged fence to deal with, and they’d have to go in and make sure all those walkers had been dropped by head shots and were really dead, and that didn’t even begin to cover whatever chaos was happening in isolation, but-

As Shane stared at the dead and tried to decide what had to be done first, headlights swept the gates, coming up too fast. 

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered. Carl ran for the pulley and Rick for the gate, and Shane shoved a hand through his hair as he tried to wrap his mind around how goddamn fast everything could change. 

The van jerked to a stop and Daryl jumped from the passenger side, his eyes scanning the damage to the fence and the bodies of the dead. Shane was pretty sure he saw Daryl give a silent whistle of appreciation at the sheer number of them. Bob, Tyreese, and Michonne practically exploded from the backseat, already running toward the prison with bags over their shoulders, and Shane’s feet finally started moving when the driver’s door opened. 

Ace looked tired and dirty and vaguely haunted, but her eyes shot straight to him and her shoulders slumped in relief even as her smile grew. Shane dropped the gun and rounded the car, pulling her close and holding on tight. 

“Hey, Dickhead,” she said simply, leaning her head against his chest. He half-laughed and closed his eyes, tangling a hand in her hair.

“Hey, Slugger.”


	15. Lie #15: “He’d Shoot Daryl If He Had To, Damn It” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence   
Major character death (canon)

"Then Maggie came bustin' in, shotgun blazin', and saved all our fuckin' asses. Especially Glenn's," Merle said. He was still pale, but the IV bag he'd been on all night had done wonders. "That boy'd have been eaten by our own as they turned if it weren't for her- and Miss Lizzy's quick thinkin', leading what was left of Henry away."

Shane shook his head, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Shit. Should have headed down there with her." 

"Hell naw. Lil sis said you, the other pig, and the kid took on a damn herd least a hundred deep up top. Gotta keep them fences intact if this place'll be worth anything. More important than runnin' in to try and save a few of us. With them meds not back yet, there weren't much you could've done. Ya made the right call," Merle told him bluntly. 

Shane nodded once, wondering how in the hell it was that this was the same asshole who made camp a living hell outside Atlanta. The ruthless pragmatism Ace showed at times was honed to a razor-sharp point in Merle, and Shane was infinitely grateful for it. Especially right now.

Ace looked like she wanted to disagree with her brother’s assessment of his own relative worth, but Merle wrapped his arm around her before she could speak. She leaned into her brother's side and closed her eyes, her head on his shoulder. "I'm just glad you're ok, asshole," she said after a beat. 

"Hell, sis. I told ya. Ain't nothin' can kill me," he declared in a lazy drawl. 

Ace opened her eyes long enough to roll them at Shane, and he smiled back at her. He slid from the table he'd been leaning on and kissed her cheek, knowing there was a shit ton to do and he'd lingered with Ace as long as he felt he could. Others were working, so he needed to as well, even if all he wanted was to stay with her and her idiot brothers. 

They still had the littlest ones, including Judith, in isolation in the admin building until they got all the bodies burned, cell blocks A and D cleaned up, the fences repaired, and everyone pumped full of the meds Daryl and Ace had brought back. Shane figured if he wanted to cuddle his little girl- and God knew after two days of not seeing her smile, he wanted to hold his baby- he'd better get started on some of that shit. 

"I gotta get busy, sweetheart," he told Ace. "Stay here with your brother. Get some rest, both of you. You need it."

The explosion rattled the walls and had Shane going for his gun. Ace shot upright as well, her head coming off Merle’s shoulder and her eyes wild. 

“What the hell?”

“Shane!” Rick came barreling out of the tombs, Daryl a grim shadow at his side and Tyreese just behind them. Shane was heading toward the door already, pausing only long enough to shove an extra magazine in his back pocket.

“I don’t know,” he answered both Ace and Rick. “Merle, stay here. You’re barely on your feet; don’t argue.” 

Merle snorted and ripped the IV from his arm. “Ain’t the boss of me, pig,” he retorted, pushing to his feet. 

Ace tucked her hand in his and turned wide eyes up to him. “Merle. Stay here. Please? I almost lost you.” 

Shane would have been amused and proud, but a second explosion echoed. Whatever the fuck that was, it wasn’t good, and they needed to do something about it right the fuck now. “Rick, Dixon Jr, lets go.” 

“Fuck you, Walsh, I’m coming too,” Ace snapped. 

Shane figured they’d won enough battles when Merle scowled at them both and plopped back down. Rick and Daryl were hitting the doors already, and Ace was packing, after all. Shane sighed and jerked his head. 

“Just stay back until we know what that is, please?” He asked her, and converged on the fence with the others. 

“Is that-“ Ace hissed, her hand tightening into a vice on his arm as they peered through the fence at the collection of vehicles down near the outer gates. 

There was a fucking tank with them. What the damn hell? 

“Rick! Come down here! We need to talk!” 

“Yeah,” Shane said flatly. He and Rick exchanged a look. “It’s the Governor.” 

"Do not go down there," Shane said firmly to Rick, but he knew a futile effort when he saw one. Rick has already argued that he wasn’t in charge anymore, but the one-eyes bastard didn’t seem to care. Shane knew damn well that Rick was going. Sure enough, Rick shrugged. 

"I've got to, brother," he said simply. He met Shane and Daryl's eyes, and Shane knew what Rick was telling them. They had plans for shit like this, even if they'd hoped like hell they wouldn't have to use them. Rick touched Carl's face and nodded. "We can do this. Ok? We can do this." 

Shane wasn't sure they could, considering how badly their numbers had been decimated. On the other hand, if anyone could figure this shit out, it was Rick Grimes and his magical ability to do the impossible. 

He nodded Daryl toward the rolling bin of guns, and he nodded back. He eased it closer, and Shane grabbed Ace's hand and shifted to a better position with her at his side. "Slugger. We gotta get everyone out, into the woods, through the admin building." 

"We're giving up? Just like that?" Ace whispered back, her eyes glued on Rick facing off with the Governor down below. Shane wondered if she was remembering what had happened when that fucking cockroach Malcom fucking Hall had taken her to him, and Shane hoped to hell she too distracted by the current situation to be reliving that shit. 

"Don't have the numbers, sis," Daryl muttered. He was passing guns to their people, and Shane accepted the rifle without looking at him. "Anyone check the bus recently?" 

"Before the Big Spot," Sasha put in from behind them. "It was low then. Probably lower now." 

Shane grimaced. "We'll make do. Get everyone moving. It goes bad, hit the bus or hit the trees. We'll all meet up like we've planned." 

Ace's hand turned into a death grip on his. "Shane. Shane, he-" 

Her voice held pure terror that had Shane whipping back around and cussing up a storm under his breath. That one-eyed bastard had Hershel and Michonne, hands tied behind their backs and kneeling on the ground. Ace's hand shook in his, and Shane turned his attention to her, knowing he didn’t have another choice. She couldn’t lose it; not here and now.

"Ace, sweetheart, you gotta keep your head here, ok? I should have killed him for you like I said I would, and I'm sorry I didn't, but I need you. Ok? Come on. I need you. Rick's got it under control. Go get people moving. Get them moving," he ordered her in a low voice, not taking his eyes off the scene unfolding down below. 

He could tell by the way Rick was standing that he was pleading with the Governor; trying to strike some deal with the bastard, no doubt. Problem was, Shane had a suspicion that he was beyond reason. 

When he whipped his gun out and shot two walkers coming up, Shane felt Ace jerk beside him and heard her breath. He spared her a quick glance, and she shot a hard look back at him. 

"I’m good. I'm not going anywhere," she said. "I've got your back, Dickhead. Love you." 

"Shut up," he muttered. "Don't give me that shit." 

"Don’t be an asshole." 

"I love you too. You know that. Stick close," he said grimly. He hated that shit; hated the way it sounded like a just-in-case goodbye, but he wouldn’t leave it unsaid. Not if he could say it to her, and he could.

Down below, the one-eyed bastard had Michonne's sword at the old man's throat, and Shane had a feeling shit was about to go down. 

As usual, he wasn't wrong. He fucking wished he was. 

This time, Shane knew it happened fast. 

For a minute, it looked like Rick had pulled off another miracle. Then the sword flashed, blood sprayed from Hershel's neck, and Maggie and Beth were screaming. Rick fired and Shane did too a heartbeat later, trying to give his best friend some cover while he hauled ass toward the overturned bus. 

The Governor's people opened up on the place, but so did everyone on the fence with Shane. Ace had a wild look and her gun on her shoulder, unloading on the one-eyed bastard like everyone else. 

He had a moment to think ‘good’, because he’d been worried about her if the shooting started. That incident with her fuckin’ dad made gunplay something that shut her down sometimes, and bullets were flying. His Slugger needed to have it together, and she fucking did, thank God.

Unfortunately, Shane knew it wasn't going to do any good. They had a fuckin' tank.

Sure enough, the tank came into play seconds later, taking out another of the guard towers and blowing a hole in C block's wall. Shane looked around at the swirling chaos, the tank and the Governor's fleet of vehicles taking down the fences and marching steadily forward, and for a moment, he had no idea what the hell to do. 

His baby was in the Administration building, helpless to fight back. His brother was down in that field, on his own and about to run out of cover. Ace was at his side, and he had to keep her safe. And Carl was further down on the fence, firing off rounds from a shotgun like a fucking professional. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? 

"Shane? We have to move," Ace yelled, her eyes wild as she grabbed his arm and started pulling him back, toward the bus and the admin building. "We have to get Judy!" 

Just like that, he snapped back into focus. "Go," he ordered her. "Get her, get the other kids, and get your ass to the bus. I'm going for Rick." 

"Shane-" 

He grabbed her and kissed her hard, his hand on her face for the split second they had to spare. "Get our girl, Slugger. I have to." 

"Goddamn it, Dickhead," she whispered. "You stay alive, you hear me? Or I'll kill you myself!" 

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too," he told her with a crooked grin. 

The tank fired again and cinderblock started raining down around their ears. 

"Go. Go!" she ordered, and she started to run. 

Shane took a deep breath and hauled the rifle up to his shoulder, ducking out in a crouch and firing off a few rounds as he scanned for more cover. He darted to an upturned table, bullets spraying right on his heels, and dove for it, wondering just how in the hell he was going to get down there to Rick in this fucking nightmare. 

Shane had seen some shit on the job, with Rick. He'd been in a firefight or two before. This? This was on a whole new level, and he spared a minute to wonder just how the hell the end of the world kept giving him new definitions of total chaos. Then he popped up, fired, and ducked back down. 

Only to see the tank busting open the inner gate and a walker closing on Ace's brother way too quickly. 

Shane took out the walker, Daryl took out the tank, and the bus pulled away. Shane told himself firmly that Ace and Judy were on it, and so were Carl and Merle and Maggie and Glenn and Beth and Sasha and Tyreese.

Thing was, he knew for sure and certain that three people weren't on that thing- him, Daryl, and Rick fucking Grimes. 

"Alright, Dixon. We gotta- we gotta get to Rick, down there in the field. Then we gotta make sure nobody else is left behind in this mess, man," Shane snapped, standing at Dixon's back and mowing down the three walkers coming up. 

"Ain't gonna get down there to Rick, Walsh. Head back toward Admin, scan for anyone else, and get on the heels of the fuckin' bus. Our only play. Walkers pourin' in this way." 

Shane spared a glance over his shoulder into the field and his heart stopped. "Goddamn it. Goddamn it! That's my best friend down there!" 

"Wanna see ya kid again? My sister? Let's fuckin' go," Daryl snapped, grabbing at Shane's shirt and shoving him toward the admin building. 

And Shane thought about Ace making him a promise, to do whatever it took to get back to him, and he went. Whatever it takes, Slugger, he thought grimly. Whatever it takes.

They didn't make it very far. Walkers blocked them in, and where the walkers weren't the last of the Governor's assholes would throw bullets their way. 

They kept trying, but they were running out of options fast and as far as Shane could tell it'd been all of three minutes and they'd gone forward all of ten feet. He popped out from behind Ace's bar, fired off a couple rounds, and scanned. 

It caught his eye as he dove back under the cover, a hail of bullets splintering the wood where his head had just been. He told himself he hadn't seen it; that it was just his fear and worry for their people cropping up and if he just looked again, he'd see that he was wrong. 

Only he popped back up, got the asshole who had them pinned down, and looked again. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, no," he breathed, shooting to his feet and heading toward the car seat he could see in the middle of the courtyard. "No, no, no, no. Shit!" 

Daryl grabbed his arm and pulled him back, firing a bolt from the crossbow into the walker that came out of nowhere right in Shane's fucking face. He tried to tear his eyes away from the grey and pink carrier, but he couldn't. He had to get to it; had to know if his little girl was in there, left alone in this chaos and crying for help. 

He couldn't bring himself to think she was dead. She couldn't be. It wasn't- 

"Damn it, Walsh, you see the walkers? You see 'em?" Dixon screamed it at him, getting up in his face and driving him back, in the opposite direction from that little infant carrier that had caught Shane in its gravitational pull. "We gotta- fuck!" 

Shane whirled at Daryl's wide eyes, mowed down two walkers with a quick burst, and whipped back toward the car seat. He'd shoot Daryl if he had to, damn it. 

Then Beth Greene came out of nowhere, with her tear-streaked face and a rifle in her hands, and called his name. "Shane! You can't get to it! We have to go! Please, we have to go!" 

Daryl grabbed Shane's arm again and he spun on Ace's brother, ready to follow through with his threat to fucking shoot the man if he didn't get out of Shane's way. But Dixon blue eyes, Ace's eyes, speared into him, and- 

And Shane went.


	16. Lie #16: “Running Is Good When You Don’t Have Another Choice. I Can’t Run, Though.” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
References to past miscarriage  
References to past abuse/domestic violence

Get our girl, Slugger. 

Shane's face had been agonized as he stood, firing automatically but clearly unsure what to do. He'd been drawn in three directions at once and you'd seen that, but you'd known. You had to get to Judith. 

You weren’t losing another baby, damn it. 

Dickhead running in the other direction, toward Rick- you felt like you’d ripped your heart out of your chest and left it back there with him, and you knew you wouldn’t breathe right until he was back where you could touch him. But he’d left Rick for dead once in a nightmare, and much like you had to get to Judith, Shane- Shane had to get to Rick. He couldn’t abandon his friend again, and you taking care of his daughter, their daughter, had freed him to do what he needed to do.

You wanted to be angry; you wanted to be terrified. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you felt the Governor's fist slam into your face and knock you to the ground. You could hear his cold, empty voice saying you were pretty, like Maggie. You didn't have time to deal with all that though, so you shoved it aside and ran for the admin building. 

The plan was, the kids all stuck together. They'd load Judy in her car seat and carry it to the bus in case of an emergency, where they'd be safe until the bus left. That was the plan. 

The plan had never included this, you thought desperately. The plan had been in case the fences were brought down by walkers and the prison was overrun. It didn't have contingencies for tanks blowing up C block, with Merle maybe still inside, or people shooting at you from all directions while Shane and Daryl tried to bring them down and rescue Rick. 

The plan was never supposed to go this way. 

You were reckless and you knew it, but you had to get to Judith. Shane had told you to; Shane had trusted you with making sure your girl, his girl, was ok. Bullets sprayed at your feet and you flung yourself behind a filing cabinet turned planter, panting and shaking and forcing aside the gibbering terror that wanted to overwhelm you. 

This wasn't the time for freezing, and you couldn't talk anyone out of destroying your home. Walkers were already coming in, now, and the Governor's people had broken the inner gate. This was a time for fighting or, at the very least, flight.

You leaned around the cabinet, lucking into a perfect shot at one of the Governor's people, and a bullet winged way too damn close to your head. You spun, eyes wide, and stared at a walker at your feet and two little girls with guns. 

Lizzy looked oddly calm and Mika looked fucking terrified, and hell- you didn’t blame her. 

"Ok," you whispered. "Thanks. Where's Judith?" 

"Back that way. Come on!" Lizzy said firmly, and you followed them. You took one last look at the fence where you'd left Shane, but you couldn't see anything in the chaos. The tank fired again and the sky walk between cell blocks collapsed before your eyes. 

You swallowed hard and went with the girls. 

Whatever it takes, Dickhead, please, you thought at him, tears burning in your throat. Whatever it takes. 

The car seat wouldn't work. You couldn't carry it and shoot. 

You stripped off the flannel shirt you'd thrown on over a tank the night before, after you'd showered and while you told Shane what happened on the road and he'd filled you in on what he knew about here. You handed Lizzy your rifle and snapped for her to cover you, then twisted the shirt into a quick and extremely unsafe sling across your body. 

Then you flashed Judith a smile, glad you were in a spot somewhat sheltered from the chaos while you did this. "Hey, baby girl. Come on now, I've got you. We'll find your dads soon enough, but for right now, you're gonna hang with Auntie Ace, ok? Hope you're cool with that," you said to her soothingly as you tucked her into the shirt sling and strapped her as securely to your body as you could. 

She grabbed your tank with her tiny hands and you wrapped an arm protectively around her. You didn't think you'd be able to use the rifle, at least not with any degree of efficiency, but you just had to get to the bus. Once you got to the bus, there would be others around. The kids would be safe, and you'd have both hands again to fire. 

You took the rifle back from Lizzy and nodded toward the diaper bag on the ground beside the car seat, letting out a hard breath. "Ok. Grab that bag, Lizzy. We're heading to the bus. Stay close and cover each other, ok?" 

You saw Tyreese dive behind the planters, two of the Governor's people lighting his cover up like Christmas fucking day. You covered Judith's ears with one hand and hauled the rifle up with the other, trying to get it steady enough to shoot. Before you could, two shots rang out from beside you and the Governor's people dropped like stones. 

You shot Lizzy a look as Tyreese rose cautiously. "Good job, honey. Ty! Come on, we've gotta- damn it." 

Tyreese stared with you, his eyes wide and glassy, as the bus pulled away, booking it out of the prison under a shower of gunfire. You handed Tyreese the rifle, but he was staring around him with blank eyes. 

"Damn it! Tyreese! Get your shit together!" you snapped. "We've got to get out of here. Girls, come on. Stay close. Mika, give me that gun. Ty! Fuck, man, I will leave your ass here if I have to, but I need your help. Do you hear me?" 

He shook himself, blinking down into the upturned faces of Lizzy and Mika and seeming to finally take in Judith in your arms. "I hear you. This way." 

You spent the night evading walkers and doing your best to keep Judy quiet. Mika was terrified of every sound, and you were barely hanging on to your own sanity as you stayed two steps ahead of the walkers who streamed toward the fire you could still see burning, drawn to your home by all the fucking noise. 

The only reason you kept from losing it was that there wasn't time to think. There wasn’t time for remembering Mal and the Governor, or Will’s belt. There wasn’t time to think about all the people you’d just killed, or the fact that you’d left both your brothers and the love of your life behind in that nightmare and you didn’t know if they were alive or dead. 

There was just staying alive yourself, and keeping Judith and Lizzy and Mika alive too.

Finally none of you could take it any more, and you stopped where it seemed safe enough to rest, at least for a few minutes. Mika and Lizzy both fell asleep immediately, leaning on each other, and you looked at Tyreese. He was taking a turn carrying Judith, who was thankfully sacked out on his shoulder at the moment as well. 

"I have to go back," you said softly. "I have to look. For Shane. For Daryl and Merle. For the others. I have to go back." 

"You can't," Tyreese told you bluntly. "I can't keep them alive by myself. You know that. I need you. They need you." 

"You can. It won't be for long. We'll find somewhere for you to hole up when we have the light again, and I'll go back in alone. I'll find our people and bring them back to you. Everyone's probably waiting for us at the meeting spot anyway, but the walkers are too thick for us to get through right now with Judy. You'll stay with the kids, and I'll bring the cavalry to you," you insisted. 

You weren't delusional. You knew it wasn't true. You knew going back into that mess would only lead to you finding walkers you knew, but- 

It was Shane. It was your brothers. You couldn't believe they were dead, and if they weren't dead, they'd be looking for you. You had to look for them too. 

"You can't," Tyreese said again. "Ace, we-" 

A twig snapped nearby, and you shook Mika and Lizzy awake. 

Judith started crying again, and Mika flipped out. 

"Make her stop! They'll hear her! Make her stop!" she begged. She latched onto Tyreese as you bounced Judy, humming in her ear and trying to get her to settle down. 

"Diaper," you said when she made that face. Your heart clenched, thinking about teasing Shane over his shoulder in the middle of the night, playing with Judith while Shane cleaned her up and grumbled about middle of the night changes and feedings. You'd laughed and said he'd just need to learn to recognize her poop face, and when he'd asked what that looked like, you'd laughed harder as her face scrunched up and she'd shot shit across the cell. 

Shane hadn't appreciated your casual 'like that'. He'd appreciated you laying back down and letting him clean up the mess even less. 

Tyreese pulled a diaper from the bag while Lizzy mixed formula in a bottle, and you wondered how much longer you'd be able to feed and change her with just what was in the bag. Judy gave you a mournful look when you laid her down and you made a face right back.

"Don't give me that, baby girl. We both know you want your ass cleaned, don't we? So just- let me do it," you grumped at her. She made an unhappy noise back at you and you rolled your eyes. "Just like your father, you know that? Always have to have the last word." 

Instant pain slammed into you and had your hands stilling in the process of putting on the clean diaper. Tyreese touched your shoulder gently and you swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you finished changing Judith and gathered her close. 

"We'll find him," Tyreese said quietly. "We will." 

"Yeah," you agreed. "First we've got to-" 

"Miss Ace? Tyreese?" Lizzy interrupted you, holding out her hand with fresh fruit in it. "Can we eat these?" 

You glanced around and saw Mika standing excitedly by a bush, a wild grapevine entwinned in its branches. You felt yourself smile slowly. "Yes, you can eat those. Wild grapes are delicious." 

You scooped Judy back up and handed her to Tyreese, heading over to the bush yourself. If there were grapes, maybe there was something else you could find. You weren't a hunter, not like your brothers, but you could find rabbit trails if you worked hard enough. Probably. Maybe. Ok, it was a possibility, but possibilities were what was keeping you moving right now.

In the distance, someone screamed. 

You went for your gun immediately, turning in place to try to orient yourself to the sound. Mika latched onto your leg and you reached a hand down to her absently, listening as another scream echoed. 

"Same person," you said, meeting Tyreese's eyes. "Could be from home. I'll go." 

"No, I should go. You know what you're doing with Judith," he argued, but you shook your head. 

"I'm a better shot," you said simply. You pried Mika from your leg and stood her back to back with her sister. "Here, sweetie, you can see from both directions. Help Tyreese take care of Judith, ok? I'll be back soon." 

"Don’t go! We should just run!" she pleaded.

You sighed and kissed her head. "Running is good when you don't have another choice. I can't run though. It might be some of our people, and I have to help them." 

You pulled your knife in one hand and your Glock- formerly Shane's Glock- in the other. You paused to kiss Judith as well and give Tyreese a look. "If you get into trouble, try to come my way. If you can't, you save them and leave me behind. You hear me? Keep them safe." 

He nodded and you took off at dead run as the scream started up again, only to cut off abruptly. 

You came crashing through the trees and headlong onto the railroad tracks. Up ahead, two people grappled with a handful of walkers, fresh dead at their feet and blood soaking the ground. You fired twice and took down the walkers not currently engaged, then ran forward into the fight wondering if you were making the right choice here. 

You didn't know these two, but right now that didn't matter. They were alive, and they might know something about your people. They might have seen Shane, or Daryl, or Merle. Or Maggie, or Glenn, or Beth, or Carl or Rick. Michonne, though you had little hope that she was still alive. Sasha. Anyone. 

That possibility was worth the risk, you decided, and stabbed a walker in the eye. 

The younger man screamed as another dead asshole bit into his arm, ripping out a chunk of flesh and spraying you with blood. You took down that walker too, grabbing what was left of long hair to yank the head back and come in up and under the thing's chin. You turned to the man- a kid really, young enough you’d have ID’d him in the Lullaby and pale with pain and fear- as he fell to his knees. 

"Lay down. Now, man, do it," you snapped, stripping your flannel off to use as a bandage when it was done. You swallowed hard, trying not to think about what you were about to do, and stretched the kid's arm out along the ground, setting your knees on either side of his elbow. You'd have to take the forearm, just above the joint, and- 

Yeah, you were gonna puke a lot later. 

A shot rang in the distance and you looked wildly back the way you'd come. "Judith," you whispered. 

You grabbed your knife and set it on the kid's arm and he started screaming again, and you turned to snap at him that you were saving his goddamn life. A walker fell to its rotting, oozing knees beside you both, coming in with hands outstretched and jaw open, and you flung yourself to the side and scrambled to your feet. 

You killed it with a knife throw you would never in a million years be able to repeat, but it was too late. It had taken a chunk out of the kid's face. He was a dead man walking.

The older man had been doing a decent job holding his walkers at bay and you turned to help him now, hoping you could still save someone. You pulled the Glock back out to pick off a couple dead coming out of the trees, stressing the fuck out about what was happening back where you'd left Tyreese with the kids, and the older man took a bite to the back of the neck. 

You fired a split second too late, and the walker fell as silence descended. "Goddamn it. I'm sorry," you whispered, knowing if you'd been focused on the fight in front of you, you might have saved them. 

Both of them. 

Instead, they were dead. The least you could do, you decided grimly as the older man wept, was put them out of their misery. 

Suddenly all you could see was Dale lying with his guts spread all around him way back on Hershel's farm, and tears burned in your eyes. Hershel was gone too, another person you'd failed. You'd convinced Shane to stop looking for the Governor, after all. If he'd stayed out there, maybe he, Michonne, and Merle would have found the bastard and put an end to him before he destroyed your home. 

Before he killed Hershel and probably Shane and Rick and Carl and both your brothers, you thought wildly, and the cry ripped from somewhere deep within you. 

You aimed the gun in shaking hands and remembered Daryl ordering Shane to make sure you didn't look when he shot Dale. It felt like a lifetime ago, back before you knew how difficult taking a man's life was first hand. Now in one day you’d killed- you didn’t even know how many you’d killed. And today you could add two more to your total, and there was no Dickhead to hold you while you cried this time and tell you you weren’t a killer. 

Shit, he couldn’t have told you that even if he was here, because you were one. 

"Ace."


	17. Lie #17: “He Wasn’t Bragging About It Or Anything” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
Character death (canon)

They spent the first night running. 

When they finally got ahead of the walkers, the three of them collapsing in a heap and staring at the growing collection of buzzards in the sky, Shane tried to get his brain working. He tried to figure out what to do next; where to go; how to find the others. 

All he could think about was a pink and grey car seat, abandoned in a crowd of walkers, and how he'd left it there. He'd just left it there. 

"We should do something," Beth said. 

Shane pulled his eyes from the small fire Daryl had made and looked at her blankly. 

"There's gotta be others who made it out," she insisted. 

Shane went back to staring at the fire until Daryl put it out and followed Beth when she stormed off. He sat there a little longer, then climbed slowly to his feet and trudged after them. 

"Could be Luke's. Or Molly's," Beth said, her voice determinedly optimistic as she leaned over Daryl's shoulder and studied the ground. "Whoever it is, it means they're alive."

"Naw," Daryl said, breaking his silence for the first time since he'd snapped at Shane that they couldn't get to Shane's baby and had to go. "Means they were alive four or five hours ago." 

"They're alive," Beth snapped. 

Shane snorted, but he started walking again, following the tracks even he could see. 

"Ya couldn't get to it." 

Shane didn't look at Daryl or acknowledge that he'd spoken. Ace's brother stayed at his elbow, though, and Shane wished he and Beth would just leave him alone. Stop talking about how someone might have survived and who they might be following. 

No one could have made it out of that shit. 

Well, the bus had. The bus had gone. That thought wormed its way in and gave him the only bit of hope he could cling to. The bus had gone, which meant there was someone on it and that someone had been alive. 

"Weren't no way through them walkers, Walsh. Ya'd have just gotten killed, and then what would I tell my sister when we find her? That I- I let ya get dead just to see? Thing was empty, man. Promise. Too damn heavy to carry, so someone scooped her up and left it behind," Daryl continued. 

Shane stopped in his tracks, whirling on Dixon and grabbing him by the vest. Daryl didn't move except to toss the hair from his eyes and give Shane a 'go ahead then' look. Shane snarled and let him go, shoving a hand through his hair instead of into Daryl’s face like he wanted. "Yeah," he managed on the second try. "Yeah." 

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. Then his eyes narrowed on something over Shane's shoulder. "Wait. Picked up the pace here." 

Shane took a breath before turning to see what the hell had caught Dixon's attention, and there were a handful of crushed grapes on the ground beside another foot print. Daryl tossed his head again and kept scanning the ground. 

"They got out in a hurry. Things went bad," he said. 

Beth sighed. "Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith." 

"Yeah, faith. Faith ain't done shit for us," Daryl muttered. "Sure as hell didn't do nothin' for your father." 

"Fuck, asshole," Shane said, staring at him. "Too damn far." 

Daryl's eyes went wide as he looked between Shane's incredulous expression and Beth, who had whirled to stare him down like a startled deer. Shane shook his head at Daryl as Beth turned to the grapevine wrapped in a bush and started picking grapes with the fervor of someone running away from her problems. 

Since Shane could relate, he came over to pick a handful too. 

"They'll be hungry when we find them," she declared. 

Daryl handed over a bandanna and Shane pretended like he believed they'd find anyone. 

He should have kept looking for that one-eyed bastard. He should have made sure he was fucking dead. 

Shane whistled and the other two snapped to attention. "Two dead walkers," he said flatly. 

Daryl frowned and reached for the foliage near Shane's elbow, letting go of it without saying anything. Shane saw the look in his eyes and figured he'd come to the same conclusion Shane himself had. 

"What?" Beth asked. 

Daryl shot Shane a look and narrowed his eyes at the woods around. "Ain't walker blood. Fresh." 

"Trail keeps going," Beth insisted, pressing her lips together and stepping forward resolutely. 

Trail kept going, but it was just leading them to more dead, Shane thought. But he followed her. What the hell else was he supposed to do? 

"Got walker tracks all up and down here. Least a dozen of 'em," Daryl warned. 

Shane nodded, knowing what he meant. He was right; they were looking for bodies they could identify. Not people who needed saving. 

Trail led them out of the trees and onto a train track. Shane had his back turned, watching the trees behind the them after that walker had come out of nowhere and grabbed Beth, and he ran right into Daryl. 

He turned to ask him what the fuck he was doing stopping in the middle of the path like that and caught their expressions instead. Beth's eyes were horrified, and Daryl had slammed a blank neutrality over his face that told Shane they'd found their bodies. 

He looked slowly, not wanting to know who it was. He couldn't do it. 

Then again, he couldn't not. 

Three walkers were eating a couple fresh dead, two he could identify as not their people. He should have been relieved, but there were three other smears of blood and goop, too eaten on to know who they were. 

"Shit," he muttered. He pulled his knife and headed down, both because the tracks led that way and because he had to know. He had to see if there was anything that would tell him who the other dead were. 

Daryl's crossbow twanged and the first one went down before Shane reached them. He handled the second, and Daryl ripped the bolt from his walker's head and stabbed it through the last one while Shane searched the ground around their feast. 

There was nothing to prove this smear of blood and flesh had even been human, he thought grimly, and headed to the next one. "Got a boot. Could fit the tracks." 

"Walsh." 

Shane froze, his eyes closing at Daryl's tone. Fuck. Fucking hell. Dixon has found something, and it was someone they knew. He turned slowly, jaw tight, and- 

No. No, it couldn't- it couldn't be. It wasn't. There was no way. 

He'd crossed the space between them and he didn't remember doing it, his eyes fixed on the blood-soaked fabric in Daryl's hand. Daryl's knuckles were white where he gripped the crossbow, and Shane stared down at the flannel. He told himself to move, to look at it and make sure what they were both thinking was wrong. It had to be wrong. 

There were more flannel shirts in the world than just the ones Ace kept stealing from him, after all. 

Daryl shifted the thing in his hands, turning it slightly, and Shane started to shake. 

"Where?" he managed. 

"Right- right here, man." Daryl's voice was thick and rough, and Shane couldn't look at him. If he looked at Dixon he'd see Ace's eyes looking back at him, and he couldn't fucking do it. 

He took the shirt from Daryl's hands instead, slowly and carefully, and it was so saturated the blood smeared onto Shane's hands and stained them red. He swallowed hard, not thinking about Rick’s blood in a field or Carl’s blood on a rag in Rick’s hands, and he had to know. Had to. 

So he turned it over, and somehow his movements were brisk and precise as he shook it out so he could check the buttons. It wasn't hers, he told himself firmly. It wasn't the same damn pattern, the colors too dark, even under all the blood. 

Shane lied to himself better than he lied to anyone in the world, he knew. Except maybe her. 

He hit his knees in the middle of the blood and flesh scattered everywhere, the battered flannel missing half the buttons clenched in his fists. Blood oozed from it he gripped it so hard; oozed and ran over Shane’s hands like the blood of everyone he’d ever loved ended up running over them eventually. 

He closed his eyes to stop seeing it and clamped his jaw tight, knowing full well if he opened his mouth he was going to jam the barrel of his gun in it and pull the fucking trigger. 

"Shane?" Beth asked softly. "Shane, what is it?" 

"Ace." Daryl barely got it out, her name nothing more than a whisper. 

Shane started screaming, long and loud and ragged, and when the walkers came out of the woods, he was damn grateful.

He was restless and irritable, so he figured he would hit that bar on Main, see what happened. It was Shane's usual cure for this lonely, dissatisfied feeling- booze, loud music, and a woman. 

There was always a woman, after all. And he wasn't bragging about it or anything. It was just a fact. 

He tossed a button-down over his tee, grabbed his keys and his phone, and headed to his Jeep. Somewhere between his place and Main Street, he jumped on the highway instead. 

Maybe it was the music, pumping out of his car at full volume and filling his ears and his head with drums and guitar and wailing vocals he couldn't help but belt out as well. Maybe it was the way there was practically no one on the road, just Shane and his headlights and the stars wheeling overhead, warm summer air blowing over him with the cover down on his Jeep. Maybe he just fuckin' needed an adventure. 

It'd been a long goddamn week, and boring as hell. He'd been stuck on desk duty for most of it, after a close call in which he'd had to fire his weapon. He and Rick had gotten into a bit of a pickle and Shane had shot- at a lock on a door. It'd worked and they'd gotten out, but people wanted to know why officers were shooting up doorknobs. He'd been doing paperwork and answering phones all week, plus he'd had an extra mandatory session with the department shrink. 

It'd been fine; Shane didn't mind having his head examined when he needed it. And shooting on the job was a big deal and should be. 

He was just bored. 

An hour on the road flowed into two and Shane figured he should probably turn around and go home. There was Sunday breakfast at Rick's house in the morning, after all. Shane would need to grab donuts, in his tradition, so he could tease Lori about having a backup for when she burned the waffles. 

But Shane kept going. 

He hadn't had any particular destination in mind, and it was approaching midnight real fast. Even in the city, things were shutting down soon. If he wanted to do more than just drive around aimlessly, he'd need to pick somewhere to go. 

He pulled into that place he'd been with Rick a couple weeks before, admiring the mural once again and feeling his restlessness start to ease at the sound and light spilling from the place. It was rockin' tonight, he thought. 

Sliding through the door proved him right, since the bar was slammed and most of the tables were occupied, as was the tiny dance floor space in front of the stage. On stage, a band blasted through a song Shane didn't recognize, the lead singer's voice not half bad, but clearly not right either. Shane could tell the man had a cold, and it didn't seem like the rest of the band was with it tonight either. 

The crowd in the bar certainly didn't care, and Shane made his way to the one spot he saw available and let his eyes roam. 

A flash of blue came from the kitchen, and the bartender he'd watched punch an asshole out last time he was here came striding down the bar, carrying a tray practically bigger than her and loaded down. The guy with the topknot was at the blender, and Shane watched her roll her eyes when he said something as she slid past him.

He watched her pass out orders and take more, a smile firmly in place and from what he could tell, totally genuine. She had something to say to every customer and seemed to know a lot of them by name. She never, he noticed immediately, stopped moving. 

Even when she got snagged into a conversation with one pushy bastard who clearly couldn't take the hint that she was busy, she was still working. She took the opportunity to grab a couple of bottles from behind her and in seconds had whipped up three drinks that she slid along the bar to those close by before she finally broke away from the asshole to finish delivering orders. 

Topknot worked with and around her, both of them clearly long-term partners in this war. Shane didn't mind the wait, even though as the minutes stretched on he wondered if either of them had seen him, partly because neither of them had half a second to spare and partly because he was just enjoying watching her so damn much. 

He tried to decide if it was the hair. She still had it shocking, in-your-face electric blue, gathered tonight in a complicated looking braid that started at the top of her skull and traveled down her back. Wisps of hair had come loose to frame her face and lay against her neck, and Shane wondered what convinced someone to do that to their hair. 

Was it for attention? Rebellion? Was it a cry for help? Shane didn't fucking think so, watching the way she moved and the light in her eyes- blue eyes, he noticed, just as shocking and compelling as the waterfall of hair. The more he studied her, the more he started to think she did it because it just suited her. He didn’t even know her, but he already couldn’t imagine her without it.

He grinned when she snagged a line of tickets from the printer, scanned them, and made a face. Topknot said something, peering over her shoulder, and she smacked him lightly on the arm before handing him half the tickets and pointing at a few people along the bar, including Shane. 

He tried to pretend he wasn't staring when she and the other guy exchanged a few more words, a tired-looking fist bump, and started grabbing bottles. He went back to open admiration as she tossed one bottle in the air while pouring with the other hand, added his own applause and cheers, and tried to block out the music. 

It wasn't that the assholes on stage were bad. He could tell they were usually damn good. It was just that Shane was nowhere near drunk enough to enjoy them while the lead had that stuffed-nose sound in his voice. 

Shane admired how she made drinks by memory, not bothering to look them up in the recipe book he knew from his brief time dating Dianna Henderson was tucked under one of these counters, and he figured she had to be damn professional to know all this shit by heart, be able to think through the noise coming from the stage, and do bar tricks while making them all. 

He wanted to know her name. He wanted to impress her. Hell, he probably wanted to fuck her too, but mostly right now he just wanted to see if he could get one of those blinding smiles turned his way and those eyes to laugh into his. He wanted to make an impression, he realized, and reminded himself dating bartenders was a damn bad idea. 

Remember Dianna? That was a disaster, Walsh, he told himself firmly. 

But Dianna had taught him a few things, including some odd and obscure drinks that he'd thought she'd fucking made up until she rattled off the recipes. The bartender made her way down the bar, dropping off drinks, jotting down orders with the pen she had shoved behind her ear, and exchanging smiles and laughter with practically everyone before she got to him. 

She reached him as whoever was onstage started up a cover of London Calling that only really had volume going for it. "What can we get you, honey?" she half-yelled to be heard. 

Shane got distracted by the way the boys onstage were butchering a classic song and said the first thing that popped into his head. "Earplugs." 

She tossed her head back and laughed, hands busy reaching into the cooler and popping the tops on a couple bottles, and Shane wondered what those hands would feel like on him. Would they keep moving, constantly, or could he make her finally be still? “Rock not your jam?" she asked, bringing him back to earth. 

"Oh no, I love rock," he answered her. The restless feeling had disappeared and he was so goddamn glad he'd made this choice tonight when those eyes met his and danced. "That’s just noise."


	18. Lie #18: “I’m Not A Mother. Not Really.” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
Mentions of past child loss  
Mentions of past miscarriage/infertility

You whirled at the sound of your name, eyes wide because you knew that voice. You knew it, but you couldn't believe it. 

"Carol?" you whispered, seeing her there with Judith in her arms. Tyreese and the girls were smiling with her, Mika's little hand engulfed in Tyreese's big one. "How the fuck?" 

You practically fell into her and she hugged you back hard, Judith patting at your shoulder as you did. You sniffed back tears, knowing just how much of a miracle this was, and all the sudden it hit you. 

Shane had told you Carol killed Karen and David. Considering she'd recommended Andrea do a fuck-and-stab on the Governor back in the day, you hadn't exactly been surprised, but- 

Well, by the way Tyreese was smiling like the sun had come out in the middle of a rainy day, Rick hadn't gotten around to telling Tyreese. That was going to be messy as hell, you thought in the back of your mind.

The older man started sobbing behind you and you closed your eyes tightly. "Fuck," you muttered. 

"I've got it," Carol told you. She shifted Judith to you and pulled her knife, telling Lizzy and Mika to stay back. 

You shouldn't have let her, you knew. You should have just handled it yourself. But you curled Judith closer to you protectively and bounced her in your arms as you watched Carol. 

"Stay on the tracks," the man said. "That was my mistake." 

"But the woods have more cover." 

"No, you don't understand. There's a place, up the tracks. It's safe. You can- you can take the children there," he said, eyes on the dead and not on Carol. 

You frowned and headed down to join her when Carol glanced back at you. What the fuck was this guy on about? A safe haven, up the tracks?

"Trust me. Please," he said. "You tried to help. I'm trying to help you. Follow the tracks. Go, now." He collapsed over the body of his son, blood slowly oozing from the bite on his neck, and you made a snap decision when Judy started to fuss in your arms. 

A look at Carol and Tyreese showed they agreed with you, and you fell into step, heading up the tracks. You'd get the kids to safety, you promised yourself. You'd get the kids to safety and then you'd be back. 

For Shane, and your brothers, and everyone else. 

Carol pulled her backpack off a couple miles up the road. "There's some water in there, and some food," she told you. 

Tyreese immediately pulled out a canteen and handed it to Lizzy and Mika, getting them to drink first. Carol took Judith from you when Tyreese passed you an old power bar and the canteen. You broke the bar in half and gave him the rest, but you sucked the water down. You could find and boil more pretty easily where you were, now that you had something to put it in. Food was still going to be the tricky part, just like that long winter. 

"I didn't see you get out," Tyreese said between bites. "I didn't see you, in all that." 

Well, shit, you thought, pausing mid-bite. There it was. This was about to go very badly. 

Carol's eyes flicked to you and then back to Tyreese. "I wasn't there," she told him. "I hadn't gotten back yet. Rick and I found a car. He took what we had back to the prison. While I…. Kept looking." 

"Did you see it?" he asked softly. 

You were busy being impressed by that load of almost Shane-level malarky she'd just dropped on him so incredibly smoothly, but you were curious what she'd seen yourself. She looked grim as she nodded once. 

"I saw the end." She hitched Judith up in her arms, her eyes sliding away from Tyreese again. "And then… I saw you running into the woods. You were far away, so I lost you, but-" 

"You found us," Mika said, her tone adoring, and you remembered little Sophia, clinging to Carol's hand and to her doll in camp. 

Sophia, the daughter Carol had lost and never talked about, you thought sadly. The daughter she had lost and none of you had found, despite how hard you’d all tried. Carol gave Mika a tight smile and nodded. You all started moving again and you chewed on your thumbnail in thought. 

"Maybe we can circle around to your car," you suggested. "We could look for others while we're at it. If we made it and found each other, there have to be more, right?" 

"Ace, the walkers, and the fire- you can't go back to a graveyard," Carol whispered. 

You clenched your jaw tightly shut and took Judith from her arms, kissing her head and trying not to think about that too damn hard.

"Look!" 

Lizzy and Mika had been walking ahead, Lizzy's voice breaking the silence that had fallen after Carol's graveyard comment. You lifted tired eyes from where you'd been studying the tracks, one foot in front of the others and trying not to think too hard about anything at all and Shane and your brothers in particular. 

There was a sign posted under an overpass, and curiosity stirred when you could see the handwritten message on it. Thick black marks traced rail lines toward a central star, labeled 'Terminus' in bold letters. Over the map, someone's scrawl proclaimed- 

"Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive," Mika read slowly. 

You frowned, because that sounded vaguely familiar and you wanted to figure it out. But the girl's eyes were shining as they turned from the sign to look at the three of you, and Tyreese looked hopeful as well. Carol looked wary, but you knew which way this wind was blowing. 

You shifted Judith and kissed her cheek, passing her over to Carol. "Ok," you said abruptly. "Ok. There's a map, so you guys just follow the tracks to this Terminus place, alright? I'll head back to the prison, circle around and look for others. When I find everyone else, I'll meet you there." 

You took the rifle from Tyreese while he frowned at you, slinging it over your shoulder and pulling your Glock. You popped the magazine and checked how many bullets were left in it- not fucking enough- and slammed it back in place. "I'll try to grab Carol's car as well, to make it faster. You should be fine if you stick to the tracks and stay vigilant. Take care of Judy?" 

Carol grabbed your arm as you turned to go, adrenaline flooding you with purpose and determination. Plus, you'd learned the easiest way to get your way was to just do it faster than anyone could argue with you about it. You smiled at her. 

"I'll leave all the supplies with you guys; you'll need them," you told her easily. Maybe if you babbled enough she wouldn't remember whatever argument she was about to use to try and stop you. You had to go. You had to get back there and look for them. 

Or you had to know for certain that they were gone. 

"You can't go. Ace, you can't go. There's nothing left," she insisted. 

You swallowed hard and shook your head. "I can't believe that. Shane's still alive. Daryl, Merle. They have to be. We are. You are. And we found each other. So the others are too." 

"Ace. They might be. They might still be alive. Shane, your brothers- they're damn hard to kill," Carol agreed. "But you will be dead if you go back there. The prison was destroyed. Overrun. The place was crawling with walkers. How do you think you're going to get through? If anyone did survive, they're doing what we are. Trying to get away. Going back is suicide." 

You scrubbed a hand over your face and shoved it through your hair. "No. I have to look for them. I have to, Carol. It's my family." 

"So is Judith. She's what's important now," Carol said firmly. "It's Shane's daughter. You have to keep her alive." 

Tears slipped to your cheeks and you dashed at the angrily. You wanted to scream at her, but you settled for shaking your head and meeting her eyes with a plea in your own. "I can't abandon them. I can't abandon him. I promised I'd get back to him. Whatever it takes."

"That means not doing something stupid and getting yourself killed," Carol snapped, her no-nonsense tone that made everyone on the Council snap to and listen lashing out at you. "You can't come back to him if you're dead, can you?" 

No, you couldn’t, but he couldn’t come back to you if he was dead, either. If you’d lost him, for good, you had to know. 

You closed your eyes and forced the words out in a whisper. "What if he's dead? Carol, what if- what if my Dickhead's dead? And Darrie and Merle? What do I do then? They’re all I’ve got. All I’ve ever had. What do I do if-" 

Carol plopped Judith back in your arms, and Judy promptly smacked her spit-covered fist into your face. "You keep moving. For her," Carol told you bluntly. "You’re all she has, now. Be a mom. Moms don't quit." 

"I'm not a mother," you said bitterly. "Not really." 

"Neither am I." Carol's voice was cold and harsh, and you shot wide eyes to her hard ones. You read the compassion in them, as well as the rock-hard strength and the depth of pain you could only dimly understand. "But here I am. She needs you. Mika and Lizzy need you. Come on. Follow the tracks, Ace." 

"Mark, listen. I haven't figured everything out yet, but I thought you should know. I'm pregnant." You said it all in a rush, hands clenching on the strap of your battered backpack. 

Mark stared at you, his eyes going wide and panicked. "What- what? Uh, how? Who?" 

"What the fuck do you mean how and who? You, you asshole, and that night. The party? About a month ago?" You lifted an incredulous eyebrow at him as he started shaking his head. "Oh, you have got to be shitting me. You can't tell me you were blackout drunk for that." 

He gestured vaguely. "No, I remember- that. I just- are you sure it's mine?" 

"Are you calling me a slut? We're dating, jackass. Yes, I'm sure it's yours," you grumbled. You should have expected that, you supposed, but you were exhausted and nauseous and bitchy, and you so didn't want to have to deal with the idiot who'd done this to you trying to disparage your character. Your reputation was shitty enough in this place just because your last name was Dixon. "Stop freaking. I don't know what I'm going to do about it yet. Just figured you have a right to know. Wanted to see if you have an opinion." 

"Oh, I don't give a crap, Ace," he said instantly. "You do what you want with it, just don't- leave me out of it. I can't have anything to do with it. I'm going to college." 

Ok, was he serious? It's not that you hadn't expected a reaction similar to this one, it was just that you'd hoped he wouldn't be a total tool about it. You rolled your eyes and did your best Merle impression. "Bein' a parent don't mean you can't go to college, ya know. But whatever. You won't have to do anything, if I keep it." 

"Damn right. Shit, I don't have anything but your word that it's mine!" 

You nodded slowly. "Ok. Cool. Well, this has been fun and all, but Daryl's probably waiting for me. I guess you don't want to know what decision I make." 

"Hell no. I don't want to talk to you ever again. We're through, ok? Shit," Mark muttered, shoving past you and striding away. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose, trying not to cry. Fucking hormones, you thought viciously. 

"I'll kill him for ya. Or Merle will." 

You opened your eyes and snorted. "No, it's fine. I expected him to break up with me. I didn't expect him to be quite such a fucktard about it, but you get what you get." 

Daryl tossed his arm around your shoulders and you leaned into him for a minute. "I'll beat the crap out of him, don't worry." 

"You will do no such thing." 

"Try an' stop me, sis," he shot back, and you glanced at him in amusement. "Ya cain't take me and ya know it. Not anymore." 

You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder as you left the schoolyard. "Just- I don't know, just make sure he takes the first swing. One of us should stay off the school's shit list." 

"And ya think that's me?" 

You sighed and squeezed a lime, wondering why you couldn’t just get a bottle of Jack or Jamie like a normal person when you wanted to get deadass drunk. No, you had to make a pitcher of fresh margaritas, all for yourself, and squeeze your lime juice from the source. By hand. 

Apparently you liked to work for your intoxication. 

\-- Hey Ace

You frowned down at your phone when it lit up with the incoming message. “I have lime all over my hands, Dickhead,” you muttered. “What do you want?” 

Like he’d heard you- which was impossible, right?- your phone chimed again. 

Ok, chimed was putting it nicely. The noise that came from it could at best be described as ‘loud’. 

\-- Like your new ringtone?

You snorted and cracked a grin. “Hold on, asshole. I’ve got two limes left to do.” 

You hummed along to the radio, the kind of sappy love song pop shit you usually adored. Tooth-rotting crack was Shane’s favorite was of describing it, but he liked it and you fucking knew it. Tonight, however, was just making you sad, and you really should turn that shit off. You finished up the limes, including slicing several circles from the last one and hooking one over the edge of your glass. Your phone pterodactyl-screeched at you again and you laughed. “Hang on, hang on!” 

\-- Come on, Slugger, I’m bored

\-- And that’s my problem how?

\-- Ha! There you are! Turn your phone on loud. 

You poured the first drink and wandered to the couch with your phone in hand. 

\-- It is. Very loud. My neighbors are going to complain.

\-- Do you know how long it took me to find something to get back at you for the fucking pigs? The least you could do is act impressed.

You smiled faintly, clicking off the radio and turning the tv on. Dudes in spandex were running after a ball and you groaned. 

—- I’m suitably punished. What’s this on my tv?

—- how the hell should I know? I’m not there, sadly. 

That made you smile too, as you flipped channels. 

\-- Because it’s Sports and I don’t watch Sports. You miss me there, Dickhead? 

\-- Have you not turned on the damn tv since I was there last week? Shit girl. You work too hard. Eh, don’t get all excited. You have booze and football. I’m working a town hall meeting. Politicians piss me off.

Oh you could only imagine. You settled on a cop show, one of the luridly graphic ones Shane fucking hated, and wished he was there to mock it with you. He’d have been commenting on everything from the police work- shitty- to the female lead’s rack- fully on display- to the ridiculously futuristic lab set up- needs no further explanation. 

\-- I do indeed have booze. 

You snapped a picture of the pitcher of margaritas and sent it to him with a winking emoticon, just to get a rise from him. He hated those things, after all.

\-- shit, you having a party?

\-- No, just a shitty day. I’m thinking about seeing how much tequila I can put down before I pass out.

The detectives broke into a house with absolutely zero probable cause and nothing even resembling a warrant and you scoffed. “Never hold up in court,” you informed the tv, waving your glass. “Damn it, Shane. I used to like this shit.” 

\-- What happened? You never drink. 

You rolled your eyes. He was wrong. You did too drink, you just knew your limits and knew pushing them tended to turn you into Will- something you wanted to avoid at all costs.

\-- That’s untrue. I just don’t drink MUCH. There’s a difference. Nothing happened, really. Just feeling kinda down.

It was just today, you thought. It wouldn’t even have been a big deal, it was just- you hated hospitals every day. And landing in the ER last night, even if it had been because Jason was an idiot and had sliced his hand open on a broken glass while you were breaking down the bar together, hadn’t helped. Antiseptic smell and beeping machinery and busy doctors still looked and sounded and smelled the same, and you didn’t like thinking about that night. 

It made you sad and lonely and made you miss your brothers, and since you’d just had a public screaming match with Merle when you’d picked him up from the police station two weeks ago, you figured it was better all around if you just stayed home to drink. Alone. 

\-- Sorry about that, Slugger. Wanna talk about it? 

\-- absolutely not. Describe the politicians. I wanna sketch something. See if this police artist crap is worth anything. 

\-- You’re watching trash TV again, aren’t you? Don’t you know that shit’s fake as hell?

You laughed and grabbed your sketchbook and charcoal sticks. 

\-- Do it anyway! Pick one person and give me as detailed a description as possible. Let’s play, Dickhead, before I get too drunk to draw straight 

\-- Shit, girl, you get drunk enough you could be the next Picasso. Alright, picking a target. Hang on.

You grinned and refilled your glass, one eye on the tv and one on your phone. Suddenly your shitty day didn’t seem so bad after all.


	19. Lie #19: "He Couldn't Feel A Damn Thing" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
**** suicide/suicidal thoughts TW ***

They weren't going to talk about the night they spent in the trunk of the car, three people packed into a space that shouldn't have fit one while the storm raged and the herd stumbled and snarled and crashed into their hide out. 

They weren't going to talk about that, and if Shane had his way, he wasn't going to think about it either. He didn't want to think about Beth hiding her face in his shoulder at one point, or how Shane had started to slide his fingers into her hair before he remembered it wasn't Ace curled against him, but Beth. 

He wasn't going to think about Ace. 

Hell, he figured, walking behind Daryl and Beth. He just wasn't going to think at all. 

Beth picked at her snake; Daryl devoured his. Shane ate what was handed to him and went back to staring at the trees. 

Watching for walkers. Watching for food. Watching for whatever. 

None of them spoke, but really, what was there to say? Beth and Daryl had both tried to get him to talk, after he'd killed the three walkers on the train track. He'd snarled at Beth, shaking her hand off his arm, and hadn't bothered to look at Daryl. 

He couldn't look at his eyes. 

"I need a drink," Beth said abruptly. 

Shane glanced at her once, then went back to staring at the trees. He didn't twitch when Daryl tossed her a bottle of water or when she started talking about getting a real drink and never having had one. Hell, he didn't move when she scrambled to her feet, pissed that neither of them wanted to do anything about that fact with her. 

She stormed off and Shane watched Daryl from the corner of his eye, until he tossed down his section of snake and grabbed his crossbow to go after her. Shane followed him, because despite the way he couldn't see blue eyes in someone else's face, he needed a Dixon around. What the hell else was he gonna do? 

Besides, Beth couldn't stay out of trouble for shit on her own. 

He knew Daryl was leading her back to their little camp, and he didn't say anything. Frankly, he didn't give a shit. He didn't even know why he was still moving, why he was following them around and trying so hard to stay alive. 

Wasn't like he had anything left anyway. His daughter was dead. Rick and Carl were probably dead. Ace was- 

"Pretty sure we have to go that way to find the booze," Beth said as Daryl stepped over the tripline and back into camp. She walked right into it and paused, shooting a hot glare at both Daryl and him. "What the hell? You brought me back! I'm not staying in this suck ass camp!" 

She tossed up her middle finger and Shane would have snorted if he'd cared just a little more about anything. Daryl grabbed her arm as she whirled to leave, and Beth spun on him again. 

"What's wrong with you? Either of you? Don't you feel anything?" 

Shane stared back her, because no. No, he didn't. He couldn't feel a damn thing, and he figured Dixon probably wasn't either. 

"Yeah, you think everything's screwed. I guess that's a feelin'. So you want to spend the rest of our lives staring into a fire and eatin' mud snakes? Screw that!" She glared at both of them, fire in her eyes, and Shane's heart clenched. "We might as well do somethin'. I can take care of myself. And I'm gonna get a damn drink." 

I can take care of myself, Dickhead. I'm not one of your domestic violence cases. I'm not a victim! For the last time, despite all evidence of its futility: Ace can take care of herself. 

Fuck it, Shane thought. He looked at Daryl, not meeting his eyes, and shrugged. He wouldn't mind getting blind drunk himself. 

He started off after Beth. Cause one thing was for sure: just like his Slu- 

Well, she just couldn't take care of herself, no matter what she claimed. 

She found a country club on a golf course and Shane and Daryl got her inside. Shane stared at the walkers, hanging from the ceiling where they'd taken Dr. Jenner's route and opted out. Shane had thought Jenner a weak-ass shithead, back in the CDC. He'd been bound and determined to fight his way out; to live another day. There was always something to live for, right? He'd believed that, at the time.

He hadn't lost it all then.

Thing was, if Shane was gonna opt out of this nightmare, he'd do it permanently. No coming back as the mindless dead. No wandering the earth forever with only the barest ties to his former humanity. 

Hell, Shane was already there. 

No, if he was gonna go, it'd be one bullet to the head and lights out forever. Sitting up on watch, in the darkness listening for twigs snapping or branches rattling that would mean it was time to wake the others and run, he'd pulled the magazine from his gun and thought about doing exactly that. There was a single bullet in his pocket, so even if he emptied his gun he'd have the option. 

Once he got Beth and Daryl someplace safe, he'd take it. 

Walkers rattled the doors and it was time to head further in. 

When the clock chimed and drew every walker in the damn place, Shane pulled his knife in the lounge and decided to square off. There were only five or so, after all, and Dixon had paused at his shoulder, Beth behind them further in. 

Shane hadn't given a shit about clean clothes, or scavenging, or the one walker Beth had handled on her own, breaking a bottle of cooking sherry in the process. He hadn't given a shit about the walker mounted on a mannequin base and labeled "rich bitch" that Beth and Daryl had covered, or the way Daryl was scooping up every dollar bill in the place and stuffing it into a bag. He could have told Beth it was for kindling when she'd questioned Daryl with a judgmental tilt to her head, but what was the fucking point? She'd see soon enough. 

Killing the walkers? That Shane cared about, and he ran right in as the first one came around the corner. He craved the fight; craved the way adrenaline coursing through him drove back everything he was trying not to think about and not to feel, so he grabbed walker number one and slammed his fist into what was left of its face. 

He'd done this before. Cleansing his mind and venting his helpless rage by turning into a killing machine, down in the tombs with Rick after Lori had died and that cockroach had taken Ace. He'd done it by beating Ed's face into a pulp when he'd laid hands on both Carol and Ace in Shane's presence. He'd done it to Malcolm fuckin' Hall in the woods outside the prison, playing cat-and-mouse to get a little revenge instead of just shooting the bastard outright and being done with it. 

And look where that had gotten him, he thought as he shoved his knife into the thing's eye socket. It had put Ace right back in the bastard's hands, forced her to take his life instead of letting Shane do it. 

That thought sobered him, and he killed the next two quickly. They both wore the Governor's one-eyed face, but Shane wasn’t satisfied.

He turned to see if there were more, in time to find Daryl working out some of his own frustrations on the last dead bastard. Dixon took a fucking golf club and smashed it into the thing’s head with a truly impressive amount of power behind the swing, and Shane clapped a hand on his shoulder and headed toward Beth. 

He almost felt bad when he saw the blood and brains and rotten shit all over the brand-new sweater she’d picked out. 

"I know you think this is stupid," Beth informed them both. "And it probably is. All I wanted to do today was lay down and cry, but we don't get to do that. So- so beat up on walkers if it makes you feel better. I need to do this." 

Shane glanced at Daryl from the corner of his eye and found him staring after Beth with a guilty expression. Fuck that shit, Shane thought. He started after her into the barroom, figuring there'd be pool tables and darts and booze. All the good stuff rich old bastards liked to waste time and money on, before the world ended. 

"Come on, Dixon," he said over his shoulder. "You heard the lady. Let's get drunk." 

"Somethin' tells me that ain't the best idea ya two idiots have ever had," Daryl muttered, and Shane almost laughed at that one. 

Almost. 

Beth and Daryl were snarking at each other. Shane had a feeling it was going to be like riding with Merle and Michonne, except maybe not quite as bad because this Dixon was more of a surly bastard than the other one. 

"I found this. Peach Schnapps. Is it good?" Beth asked. 

Shane glanced at the label and scoffed even as Daryl said an immediate 'no'. Beth looked crestfallen, her eyes lingering on the bar as she settled into a stool. 

She glanced back up at Shane and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Well, it's the only thing left." 

"Be fine," Shane muttered. "It'll get the damn job done, anyway." 

He took the bottle from her, cracked it open, and took a swig. Beth wrinkled her nose and started looking for a clean glass, and Shane tried hard not to think about Ace behind a bar, laughing as she poured orange juice and asked if he wanted a screwdriver, a fuzzy navel, or a hairy navel. 

He definitely wasn't thinking about what he'd been thinking about at the time, even as he cracked a joke about body shots. He'd tried not to, but she'd had on that one tank that rode up no matter what she was doing, and she'd put some dangly dream catcher thing in her own navel, and Shane had been trying to put the way water rolled off the stone she'd had before out of his mind. Trying, but not succeeding, because goddamn that stone glinting had some excellent memories associated with it, even then, and-

Yeah, he wasn't thinking about that now. 

He shoved away from the bar and went to wander the room further, looking for a distraction. Dixon was lobbing darts at the photos of the founder's heads, and Shane found that so perfectly in character for Ace's twin that he smiled and went to comment to her about it. 

And she wasn't fucking there. She wasn't fucking there and she never would be, because he'd wrung her blood from her favorite flannel, so it washed over his hands and he could still see the red staining. 

Like Cain who murdered Abel; like Lady fucking Macbeth driven mad because she couldn't get clean, Shane suddenly itched for a fight, seeing that red on his hands still. Oh, he was always itching for a fight, always ready to hit and pound and break, wasn't he? Just a monster in the shadows, just a clenched fist, just a loaded fucking gun- 

I don't care if you're a loaded gun, Shane, just pull the trigger and come back to me!

There was no coming back to her. No coming back because she was gone. She was gone, and it was his fault, and he'd washed his hands in her blood like he'd washed his hands in Rick's when he was shot; like he'd carried Carl's blood so Rick’s hands would be clean; like he'd buried his hands in Lori's hair and destroyed her the same way he'd destroyed the rest. Oh, he was a loaded gun, alright, but when he pulled the trigger he didn't take out the bad guys. 

He took out the ones he loved, instead. 

Beth started crying behind him and Shane looked up at the wrong moment. His eyes locked with Daryl's, and there it was. Dixon blue, staring at him from the wrong goddamn face and Shane's lip curled. His hands clenched with the sudden, impossible desire to stab those eyes out so they wouldn't keep reminding him. 

Daryl tossed his head and scoffed. "Come on then, Walsh," he said, the challenge and the anger in his voice coming through clear as day, and goddamn it that was all Shane needed. 

He got the first hit in, slamming his fist into one of the eyes that mocked him with the reminder that despite all his promises and all his plans, he couldn't keep her safe. He'd never been able to keep her safe, and for some reason, right here and now, it was her brother's fault. 

Daryl took the punch and jabbed forward himself, bringing his own hand up and into Shane's stomach in a brutal move. Had it hit right, it would have put Shane on the ground in one go, but he'd gotten just far enough out of reach to make it so he lost all his breath and started coughing, but he was still moving. He half-laughed when he had enough air and came back in for more, the arrogant, self-assured tilt to Daryl's head adding fuel to the fire. 

Daryl ducked the first of Shane's combo punches, but the third caught him on the jaw and staggered him back. Shane was on him, pressing the advantage and out for blood, when the bottle sailed over both their heads and shattered against the wall. 

Shane froze, his hand knotted in Daryl's shirt and the other ready to swing, and looked wide-eyed back at Beth. She had a terrified look on her face and tears in her eyes, but she glared between the two of them and didn't back down. 

"Hey! That's enough! I get it. You lost someone. Both of you, and she mattered to you. But we all did. We all lost someone, a lot of 'em. That doesn't mean we get to take it out on each other! So stop it, or I'll- I'll- I don't know; just stop it!"

For a moment Shane wasn't holding Daryl, he wasn't looking at Beth; he was frozen in the middle of a fight with his best friend, getting blasted by Ace for being a dumbass after she'd hurled a pipe wrench through a window. Shane supposed he should be grateful that this time it was something that wouldn't have killed him immediately on contact, but mostly he was just ashamed. 

He uncurled his fingers from Daryl's shirt, once again not meeting his eyes as he took a step back. Shane ran a shaking hand through his hair and swallowed hard, forcing himself to look at Daryl. 

His eye was going to swell, Shane thought. His stomach churned, knowing he'd done that, and it didn't matter that it wasn't Ace. "Shit. I'm- I'm sorry, man," he mumbled, eyes dropping again. "I'm- I'm just-" 

"Yeah. I get it. Ain't nothin'. If tradin' haymakers makes it easier, come find me anytime," Daryl shot back, and clapped him on the shoulder. He glanced over at Beth. "She'd have appreciated the bottle bein' thrown, though." 

Shane laughed through the tears that he couldn't keep in anymore. "Shit, man. She lobbed a pipe wrench at me and Rick once." 

"That's my sister, aight." 

"Yeah, Slugger's- Slugger's- fuck," Shane whispered, and turned to grab onto the pool table hard, fighting to get air to his lungs and not slide back into that blank, black rage. "Fuck!" 

Daryl squeezed his shoulder once and scooped up his crossbow. "Yeah. Come on. Ain't gonna have Beth's first drink be no damn peach schnapps."


	20. Lie #20: "I Should Arrest Your Ass" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
drinking/ referenced alcoholism  
references to past child abuse
> 
> *** suicidal thoughts TW****

"Found this place with Michonne." 

Daryl had led them through the woods, Beth talking to him quietly about what he'd done before the turn and other shit Shane found unimportant. They were both giving him a chance to get himself together, politely ignoring the asshole with tears on his face and blood on his knuckles. 

"I was expecting a liquor store," Beth said, sounding surprised. 

Shane glanced over the shack and had a feeling he knew what Daryl and Michonne had found. It was a home brewery if ever he'd seen one, and Daryl being Daryl- Shane didn't think about toilet wine and Ace curled against him, playing with the buttons on his shirt while she talked freely to him about her past for what might have been the first time ever- there was gonna be some potent and disgusting moonshine in there. 

Shane was right. Daryl handed Beth a crate full of mason jars and jug bottles, and Shane half-laughed when she asked what it was. 

"Moonshine," he answered for Daryl. "I should arrest your ass." 

"Ain't my 'shine, officer. I just found it," Daryl countered. "Come on, let’s hole up inside." 

Inside was exactly what Shane would have expected; dirty and run-down before the world had ended, the kind of dirt-floor-poor place he'd been to many a time with Rick. Usually because the residents had been screaming and whaling on each other, or cooking up shit in an effort to break out of the shit cycle they were in, or someone had left a cigarette lit and the whole damn place had gone up in flames. 

Shane wondered if somewhere like this was where Ace and her brothers had been, before their mother died in a fire and they'd moved to the city. Ace didn't remember much, since they were so fucking young at the time, and he imagined it was the same for Dixon. Merle could have told him, but Merle would have snorted and asked him what it mattered for. 

Truth was, it didn't matter. Except that Shane loved her. He loved her so damn much, and now- 

"Here. That's a real first drink right there," Daryl said firmly, handing over a glass with about three fingers worth of moonshine in it to Beth. 

Shane had a sudden thought and grimaced. "Beth, how old are you?" 

"Are you serious?" she asked. "World's in tatters. I kill dead people. I think I can have a damn drink." 

Well, that was fair, he thought, and turned away with a half-smile when she took a sip and made a horrified face. 

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted," she declared. Then she paused. "Second round's better." 

Shane paced toward the windows as Daryl told her to slow down. He peered out into the trees, wondering how long this place would stay standing if they had a herd come through. He figured not long at all. 

"This one's for you," Beth told Daryl. 

"Naw, I'm good." 

Shane looked over his shoulder, curious. Homebrew and Daryl seemed to go hand in fucking hand to him. 

"Why?" Beth asked. 

"Somebody's gotta keep watch." 

That seemed reasonable enough to Shane. "I'll keep watch. Have a damn drink, Dixon," he declared. "I'll be out on the porch. See if I can get on the roof." 

He ducked out before either of them could argue. 

Shane decided the roof was a bad idea, given how structurally unsound it looked, so he climbed into the branches of a nearby tree instead. In all honesty, it didn't help with his vantage point, but it did make him feel a little more alone. 

God, he wanted to be alone. 

That wasn't true, he knew. He wanted her. He wanted his Slugger, his Ace. He didn't want to be near Dixon at the moment, that was all. Just until he got some measure of control back. Until he could be sure he wouldn’t try to kill him with his bare hands just for having the same eyes as her. 

He tipped his head back against the tree and sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. He couldn't- it was worse than when it all started. It was worse than leaving Rick in that hospital, or getting off the highway while they bombed Atlanta, or seeing Ace's battered and terrified face after that cockroach had kidnapped her. 

She was gone for good, and Shane knew it. He had her shirt in his pack, in case he ever forgot. And Rick was gone, and Carl, and Judy. Everyone but those two in there, and- 

He frowned as Dixon's angry voice came echoing from the shack. He sighed and slid reluctantly out of the tree to go see what was up, because that didn't sound good. It sounded very, very bad, actually. Very bad. 

He slipped around the back of the trailer in time for Daryl to bust out the back door, dragging Beth by her wrist and holding his crossbow in his hands. A lone walker was stumbling around in the backyard area and Shane grimaced as Daryl's angry, drunk as fuck eyes flashed to him. 

"Doin' a great job on watch, asshole," Daryl snarled, firing off a shot and pinning the walker to a tree. "Beth, here ya go. Let's learn how to shoot the crossbow, aight? Teach ya better'n my Daddy taught me'n'Merle. Not Ace, though. Ace just got fuckin' shot at." 

Shane flinched away from that, but Beth looked upset and almost scared and Shane couldn't stay out of it. He wouldn't let Daryl do something he'd regret later, and no matter how much of an asshole he was being right now, Daryl Dixon wasn't this kind of man. 

"Ya wanna shoot? Here ya go," Daryl said, wrapping his arms around Beth and aiming the crossbow over her shoulder. 

"I don't know how! Daryl, let's practice later-" she started, squirming to get away as Shane started for them. 

"It's easy. Right corner." The crossbow twanged and another bolt pinned the walker. Beth half-yelled wordlessly as she shoved away from Daryl, who reloaded and whipped the thing up. 

"Daryl, cut it out. Daryl, damn it," Shane snapped, getting between Beth and Dixon. 

Daryl tossed his hair from his face and snarled at them both. "Come on, it ain't nothin'. Let's pull 'em out, get some more target practice!"

Shane grabbed at Daryl's arm as he headed toward the walker, and Daryl shook him off and got up in Shane's face. He stood his ground, not backing down but not making the first move, either. Shane didn't make a habit of beating the shit out of drunks, but if Daryl didn't cut it out the two of them were going to exchange more haymakers, as Daryl had put it. 

Beth solved the immediate problem by whipping out her knife, shoving between him and Daryl, and stabbing the walker in the head. 

"What'd ya do that for? We're havin' fun!" 

"No, you were being a jackass!" Beth yelled back, and Shane almost laughed. "If anyone had found my dad like that, or your sister-"

Shane wasn't fucking laughing now, and neither was Daryl. "Don't," Dixon snapped, glaring at Beth hard enough to have Shane wondering how far the apple fell from the Dixon family tree. 

Maybe the was uncharitable of him, but he didn't exactly give a fuck right now. 

"That ain't remotely the same," Daryl hissed, and took two long steps away from Beth, breathing hard. 

"Killing them isn't supposed to be fun," Beth said, calmer now. She glared at Daryl and at Shane equally, and that was fair, Shane supposed. The way he went after them with his bare hands sometimes, it probably did look like he thought it was fun. 

"What do you want from me, girl? Huh?" Daryl roared at her. 

Beth yelled right back. "I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anything! Like nothin' we went through matters! Both of you! Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. It's bullshit!" 

Shane couldn't believe she really thought that; not with the way both of them had been acting. Then again, they'd been barely speaking, going through the motions of surviving, and Shane at least had been doing his damn best not to feel anything. So maybe it wasn't so out of line, after all. 

"That what you think?" Daryl said softly, looking just as stricken as Shane himself was right then. 

"That's what I know." 

Daryl scoffed. "You don't know nothin'." 

"I know you look at me and you see just another dead girl. Both of you. I'm not Michonne, I'm not Carol, I'm not Maggie. I'm not- I'm not Ace. I survived and you don't get it cause I'm not like the two of you. But I made it! I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid." 

"I ain't afraid of nothin'." 

Beth's face softened, but she held firm. "I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn, after my mother. You were like me. And now God forbid you ever let anyone get too close. And Shane-" 

She whirled on him next, tears in her eyes. "You can't hardly stand to look at either of us. I'm not the right girl and Daryl's not the right Dixon, but I remember how you were too. You act big and tough, but I saw you with Ace and I saw you with Judith. You don't get to turn into a monster just because they're gone. And you don't get to put that bullet through your brain either. I won't let you. They wouldn't want that." 

Shane stared at her without saying a word, because he knew damn well that she was right. She was right, and it didn't matter. He'd eat that bullet anyway, because Daryl wasn't the right Dixon, and Beth wasn't Ace, and his baby girl was dead in that tiny car seat they'd drug him away from. Nothing could change that, no matter how much Beth wanted to convince him it didn't matter. Fact was, that was everything. 

"Too close, huh?" Daryl snapped, and Shane's eyes widened because he heard the way Ace sounded when she was on the edge in Daryl's voice. "You'd know all about that. You lost two boyfriends and you don't even shed a tear! Your whole family's gone and all you can do is go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch." 

"Oh, screw you, Daryl, you don't get it-" 

"No you don't get it! Everyone we know is dead!" 

The words made Shane’s fist clench and his stomach roll like he was as moonshine-drunk as these two dumbasses, coming from Daryl in that broken, angry tone. Daryl who'd told him that Judy was alive; that they'd find the others. Shane had known better, of course, but still. Still. 

"You don't know that! You two have both given everyone up, and-" 

"They might as well be cause you ain't never gonna see any of 'em again! Rick. You ain't never gonna see Maggie again. Merle, Glenn, none of 'em! Governor rolled right up to our gates!" Daryl whirled around and Shane grabbed at Beth to keep her from going after him. He shook his head at her confused expression, knowing from experience how the Dixons were with unexpected touches. 

"Maybe if I hadn't stopped lookin' for him," Daryl said, his voice breaking. "Maybe cause I gave up, that's on me. My- my sister- I ain't- 'Supposed to look out for my little sister, damn it. And your dad-" 

Beth broke away from Shane then, latching onto Daryl in a hug from behind that had Shane wincing. When Dixon just hung his head, Shane closed his eyes and let his own grief and guilt rise. It wasn’t Daryl who should have kept looking. It was Shane.

"Maybe I could have done somethin'," Daryl whispered. "Maybe I coulda saved one of 'em." 

Shane turned and walked away when he heard Daryl start to cry. 

“Let’s burn it,” Beth had said, half-lit and eyes shining. “Come on. Let’s burn it.” 

And somehow Shane and Daryl, both sober and arguably in their right minds, had decided that was an excellent idea. So they'd splashed the place with moonshine, tossed Daryl's pilfered cash in for dry kindling, and Shane had handed Beth a match. 

It'd gone up in seconds, and the three of them had stood there watching it with their middle fingers up until the walkers had started to come. 

Then they'd run. 

It'd been pure dumbassery, but Beth was smiling and Daryl didn't look so devastated, and Shane himself almost wasn't drowning in the darkness. Once they'd gotten far enough away from the blaze and Beth had been sobering up- and starting to hurt; that girl was going straight from her first drunk to her first hangover and fast- they'd found a place to set up another 'suck-ass camp.'

Now Beth was curled up against a log, close to the tiny fire, and Shane and Daryl sat far enough away for their night vision not be completely compromised. Shane glanced at Dixon and found him staring blankly into the darkness. 

"I'll keep watch. Get some sleep. Probably don't feel too hot there yourself," he said quietly. 

Daryl stirred, tossing hair from his eyes and chewing absently on his thumb. Shane tried not to think about pulling Ace's hand away and kissing her fingers, or the way her eyes would go wide and confused when he'd first started doing it. He didn't succeed, and cleared his throat roughly and looked into the night. 

"Turn into our daddy when I drink. Merle does too, when he's drunk or high. We both know it," Daryl muttered. "Try to stay away from that shit, most of the time. Beth started- started playin' this drinking game. Never Have I Ever. Strong fuckin' shit, and before I knew it she's sayin' how never has she ever been in prison, and I- I thought about how I's the only one of us without a record, and-" He broke off and jerked his shoulders, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. "Shit. Owe her an apology." 

"Yeah, you do," Shane agreed. "She'll be fine, though. She'll get it." 

Daryl grunted. 

"For the record," Shane added, and glanced back at him. "From what- what your sister's told me, even that wasn't anything like that piece of garbage. You're a good man, Daryl. So was your brother, even if I didn't believe it when you first got to camp." 

"Yeah, well." Daryl tossed his head again. "We're gonna find 'em. Merle's out there somewhere. Survived cuttin' off his own hand, he can survive this shit. Rick, the others. We'll find 'em. Just the booze talkin'."

"Mmm. You know, man, I- I don't think we will," Shane said slowly. He slipped a hand into his pocket and found the single bullet with his fingers, a hard and unyielding promise. He looked out into the trees and then turned a half-smile Dixon's way, careful not to look in his eyes. "But we're gonna keep moving anyway. Keep Beth alive; get her someplace safe. Maybe we'll find others out there." 

Daryl sighed. "Wouldn't kill ya to have a little faith either, Walsh." 

"Faith ain't done shit for us, Dixon. Go to sleep. I'll keep watch."


	21. Lie #21: “I Believe It” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence   
Canon typical violence   
References to past domestic violence/abuse

"I still think we should check out that smoke," you informed Carol, walking backward with the rifle in your hands. 

Carol sighed and grabbed your arm to pull you around a tree. "You know that's a bad idea." 

"Why? It might have been some of our people." 

"Ace." 

You shot Carol an annoyed look. "What? We can leave Tyreese and the kids alone while we look for water, but we can't leave them alone to look for our people? Shane's out there. And Daryl and Merle. I believe it." 

She gave you that patient look that clearly said you knew better, and the thing was, you did. You'd been telling yourself for days now that they were ok, and they were out there. You'd look for them soon, and find them. 

But you knew why heading toward that smoke was a bad idea. 

"Fine," you snapped. "But after we get to Terminus and get it checked out, I'm going back. You can't stop me." Even if it was just to put down walkers, you had to go. 

Carol said nothing, and you walked on in silence until she stopped abruptly. You stood with her, studying the house in the clearing. It had wire fences around a garden plot, and pecan trees with branches loaded down with nuts. Carol's head tipped slightly to the side, her eyes narrowed, and you knew what she was thinking. 

"We need to keep going," you objected. "That's the whole argument, isn't it? Keep going until the kids are safe?" 

"Tyreese has a fever. His arm is infected. Lizzy and Mika are exhausted. We're exhausted. I know you're not sleeping even when you're supposed to be," she countered. 

Your eyes slid from hers and you jerked one shoulder in a shrug. She was right; you hadn't slept more than a couple hours a night since before Merle got sick. "I kept odd hours before all this." 

"Yes, but you still slept. Come on, Ace. We'll hole up for a few days. Not too long; just enough to rest, roast a supply of pecans, maybe bring down a deer. Resupply and get our strength back. Then we push on." 

You studied the house, chewing on your thumbnail and hating the delay. Every day of travel was another day you didn't find your family. "Damn it," you whispered. "Carol, how much longer?" 

"As long as it takes," she answered firmly. "As long as it takes." 

"Girls, you stay right here. Lizzy has Judith, so Mika, get out your gun. You have to keep watch," Carol told the girls in a whisper. 

You and Tyreese were already on the porch, peering in the windows and getting ready to go in. You banged your fist on the door to attract any dead inside, and sighed. "Feel familiar?" you asked Tyreese. 

"This won't go like the Big Spot," he assured you. 

"Yeah. Well, let's hope not. Aight, Carol, that's long enough. It's not that big a place. Let's go." 

Carol nodded and shoved the door open, ducking left as she went in. You went right, knife in one hand and gun in the other, and wished to God it was Shane at your back and not these two. Carol was the toughest bitch on the planet these days, and you loved her dearly, but she wasn't your Dickhead or your brothers. 

You cleared the first room with no issues, giving the trilling whistle that was the all-clear your people had developed over that long winter. Carol whistled back from the kitchen, and you started toward the closed door further in when you heard a crash and a scream from the girls outside. 

"Shit!" you yelled, and charged toward the door as Judy wailed and Lizzy screamed. 

You vaulted the porch railing to get to the walker clawing his disgusting way toward Lizzy and your girl. You landed wrong, because of course you did, and yelped as your ankle bent, rolling with your momentum before scrambling practically on your hands and knees to get there faster.

"Mika, gun down!" you yelled as you grabbed onto the walker. The little girl held the gun in shaking hands, and if she fired she'd miss wildly and hit you, her screaming sister, or Judith. You managed to get a hand under the walker's jaw and plunged your knife into its temple, twisting for maximum damage as you pulled the knife out again. 

You let the walker drop immediately and turned frantically to Lizzy and Judy. "Are you ok? Girls, are you ok?" 

"We're ok," Mika said in a shaky voice. Lizzy had stopped screaming, and you pulled Judith from her arms and into yours, checking her over rapidly for scratches or bites even as you started trying to soothe her. 

She curled in against your shoulder, her crying settling down into unhappy grumbles as she grabbed at your hair and wrapped it all around her fingers, and you closed your eyes and let out a breath of relief. "Thank God. Thank God. Lizzy, are you ok?" 

"I- I'm ok. I'm sorry, Miss Ace. It came out of nowhere and it scared me. I couldn't think," she said tearfully. 

"You did fine." Carol's voice had both girls scrambling toward her, and her eyes met yours over their heads. "Ace?" 

"Well. Walker's dead. But I think I fucked up my ankle," you said with a grimace. "Inside clear?" 

"It’s clear," Tyreese called from the doorway. "Let's get everyone in." 

"Easier said than done," you muttered as you shifted Judith in your arms to try to climb to your feet. "Any more of them?" 

"Give me the baby." Carol took Judith from you and you used the porch railing to get the rest of the way up. "Take a step." 

You tried. Your ankle screeched at you and you hissed as it buckled. "Damn it!" 

"Guess we have to stay a few days," Carol murmured to you as she wrapped an arm around your waist. You leaned on her shoulder and limped your way slowly toward the steps. 

"Yeah, guess so." You kept your face still, but you had a feeling Carol knew what you were thinking anyway. 

There went your plans to sneak out and check on that fire once they were settled. 

There was a shallow grave and a homemade cross in the yard, baby shoes hooked over the cross. You stared out the window toward that grave and the ones beside it, wondering if the walker you'd killed had been the last member of whatever family had lived here. Wondering if he'd buried his baby, his wife. His whole family gone and in the ground, and he was the only one left. 

You wondered if he'd opted out, when they were all gone. 

You wondered if your whole family was gone too. 

Tyreese coughed lightly behind you and you knew you should be sleeping. Exhaustion crept up on you, weighing you down in more ways than one, but when you closed your eyes- 

Carol was out on the porch on watch. The rest of you had piled into the living room together, just like in the days before the prison, for comfort and for safety. You’d taken the couch when Tyreese kicked back the chair, and you leaned your forehead against the glass and didn’t think about hard floors and a pack as a pillow, Shane’s arm around your waist the only blanket you had some nights. 

Judith slept in the wooden cradle that probably belonged to whoever had worn those tiny baby shoes out there. In the darkness, thinking about that grave, you let yourself wonder if she was an orphan now.

Rick had been down there in the field when the attack started. He was dead, you had little doubt. There was no way he could have gotten away from the fucking tank. 

You closed your eyes and tried to piece together your memories, searching for some clue about what might have happened to Shane. He'd kissed you at the fence and gone for the gate, and you- you hadn’t- you hadn’t seen him since. 

You bit the inside of your lip to keep from crying, knowing he couldn't have made it down there. And if he had, there certainly wasn't any way he could have made it back. 

Which meant your Dickhead was probably dead too. 

You curled tighter around yourself, biting down on your thumb until you tasted blood as you lost the battle with the tears you’d been holding back for days.

"Would you hurry up in there? How many damn dresses are you puttin' on?" 

You stuck your head out through the curtain and rolled your eyes at Shane. He made a face back, looking uncomfortable as hell in the boutique second-hand store, staring at the mannequin sporting a truly hideous sweater over a floor-length velvet gown. You almost didn’t blame him for the look on his face; you didn’t get it either. "It's formalwear, Dickhead. It takes awhile to get into- especially vintage formalwear. Hang on; then you've got to tell me what you think." 

"Don't you have a boyfriend for this shit?" He grumbled as you ducked back behind the curtain and returned to your losing battle with the zipper on the dress you'd spied in the window. 

"Mal's busy. We were here. Come on, help a girl out. It's my third showing; and Maria's gone full-tilt with this roaring 20s, art deco theme." You finally gave up on the zipper with a groan. "Shit! Ok, I need your hands." 

Shane snorted. "Well, all you have to do is ask, Slugger, but I think that jackass might have a problem sharing." 

"Shut up. I can't get the zipper. The faster you help me, the faster we can leave," you informed him, pulling back the curtain and facing the wall. "Zip me, Dickhead." 

"I'd like to remind you that we're supposed to be at your place drinking and watching sports. That was the price of my lugging three duffle bags and a ladder just to stand around watching you paint,” he said dryly, even as you felt him tug the zipper the rest of the way into place. Then he paused. "Where'd you get this bruise? Jesus, Ace." 

His fingers ghosted lightly over your bare shoulder and you winced internally. You'd forgotten about that one, since it was damn near a week old. It’d been worse when it was fresh, worse enough you’d considered an ER run. "Ugh. Feet slid out from under me at the bar the other night and I caught the edge of the counter just perfectly. Look, men in spandex and all the drinks you could ask for are on the way, but Gatsby is not my jam and I need your help. What do you think?" 

You turned to face him, looking down at yourself and smoothing the dress. It was far from your typical style or color, a blush pink silky slip dress covered in a layer of silvery beading and fringe that fell to your knees. Thin straps and the plunging V neckline left your shoulders and more of your chest and back bare than you'd usually be cool with- especially with your tendency toward ugly bruises and the scar down your back you were sure was at least partly visible- but shit. Maria insisted and you needed a damn dress. You could get creative with your hair styling or use a shawl or something to cover the scar. 

Plus, this was one vintage, which the elite would know and appreciate, and it fit you pretty damn well, and- 

You looked up and found Shane staring at you, an odd expression on his face. "What?" you asked. "Is it bad? Damn it!" 

He shook his head and shoved a hand through his hair. "Naw, Slugger, it ain't bad. Opposite of bad. Nobody's gonna be looking at the art, honestly. It's perfect." 

You grinned. "You think? I bet it'd look great on the dance floor, too." You did a hip swivel and the fringe flew. "Yes! We should totally go out dancing after the showing. Not that night, but you know, soon. You need a fedora and a fat cigar." 

Shane laughed and herded you back into the changing room. "We'll see. Come on, Slugger, this is not my kinda store. Get your clothes back on and let's go." 

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered as he drew the curtain closed. You turned to pull the dress off and sighed. "Shane! Zipper, damn it!" 

You slept a few fitful hours and woke up exhausted, crabby, and in pain. Carol immediately refused to let you do anything on your ankle, claiming if you didn't stay off it now, it would never heal. 

You'd limped around the house anyway until Carol had muttered an 'alright, Shane, get off that damn thing' and you'd been frozen in place, thinking about him on the farm and realizing you loved him while you screwed each other's brains out in the backseat of the Hyundai. Carol had given you a stricken look and reached for your hand, but you jerked away from her touch and made your way back into the front room. 

You curled on the couch and stared out the front window at nothing, tears sliding down your cheeks again. You fought hard to keep your mind blank; to bring back the belief that they were out there waiting that you’d held to you like a shield.

When Judith started to cry, you picked her up and cuddled her close, holding on to all you had left of Shane. 

"What the hell?" 

You scrubbed your eyes at Carol's startled exclamation, looking up as she dashed toward the back door. You climbed to your feet and laid Judy down in the cradle, grabbing the rifle and slowly making your way toward the door to see what the hell was going on. 

Outside, Lizzy was being chased by a walker. 

"Shit," you muttered, raising the rifle to aim. She was so close, and- 

You shouldn't have worried. Carol tackled the thing and had her knife in its eye in a blur, and you dropped the rifle and sagged against the door with a sigh of relief. 

"No! No!" 

All the sudden Lizzy's cries registered, as she shoved at Carol and sobbed. What the ever-loving fuck? You thought, confused as hell. 

"She was playing with me! She wanted a friend!" 

Carol climbed to her feet and yelled back at the crying girl. "She wanted to kill you! It wanted to kill you!"

"I was gonna lead her away!" Lizzy sobbed. 

"You could have died!" 

You stared back and forth between the two of them, sick fear churning in your stomach at Lizzy's words. She thought the walker- one of the shambling undead creatures who killed your friends and family and tried to eat anyone and everyone they could- had wanted… to play? 

What the fuck?

"It's the same thing. You killed her! You killed her!" Lizzy screamed, her face contorting into rage and grief that baffled you in its intensity. "What if I killed you? What if I killed you? You don't understand! You don't understand!" 

"Carol?" you called, and she tossed a hand up even as she reached for Lizzy to calm her down. 

"Go check on Judith, Ace. I've got this," she called to you. "Lizzy, calm down. Lizzy, look at the flowers. Look at the flowers, Lizzy."

“You killed her! She was my friend, and you killed her!” 

You shuffled back into the house, the sound of the kettle whistling and Judith half-crying drawing you away from the scene outside. Tyreese ducked into the kitchen, Judy in his arms, as you made your way to take the kettle from the heat. 

“What’s going on out there?” He asked with a nod toward the yard. 

You dropped into the kitchen chair with a thunk and looked up at him, baffled and honestly? A little freaked the fuck out. “I have absolutely no idea.”


	22. Lie #22: "Maybe You Could Control It" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
mentions of drug use  
implied references to past child abuse  
major character death (canon)

Carol came in with her arm around Lizzy and there was no chance for you to ask her privately just what the fuck had been up with all that. You were ordered to stay put and watch Judy and the girls while Carol and Tyreese went for water, and after an attempt at walking you reluctantly agreed. 

Mika, bless her sweet heart, brought you a book and peaches and a bottle for Judith, saying she and Lizzy would be right outside. To give you some quiet. 

"Stay close," you warned her, and she nodded earnestly. 

Somewhere about two sentences into the book, Judy on your lap, you fell asleep. 

"Carol! Ace!" 

The screaming jolted you out of a dream about Daryl and Merle, and your arms tightened around Judith when you bolted upright and she slipped. You scrubbed at your eyes, trying to figure out where you were and what the hell was going on, and- 

"Lizzy! Lizzy, help me!" 

Mika. 

You put Judith in the cradle and ran for the back door, all worries about your ankle forgotten at the fear in the sweet little girl's voice. On the porch, you stared at the burned walkers stumbling out of the woods, coming toward the house and the two girls under your charge. Lizzy tugged on the prone Mika, who must have gotten caught in the barbed wire of the fence. Grabbing at her leg was a crispy critter who was way too fucking close for comfort. 

"Shit," you muttered, setting the rifle to your shoulder. This was the kind of shot you never would have taken, given any other choice. A hair off and you could hit one of the girls. If they moved at the wrong time- 

You let out a slow breath, shoving aside past trauma because you were an adult now and you weren't your drunken father taking risky potshots for the hell of it. If you didn't shoot they were walker bait for sure. 

And you couldn't lose any more kids. 

A squeeze of the trigger and the walker dropped, a round dead between it's eyes. You let out a relieved breath as did two others walkers fell and Carol and Tyreese charged in from the side. You set your jaw grimly as they got the girls behind them, already shifting the gun to the next of the shambling horde. Some of them were still smoldering, you noticed. You glanced at the column of smoke as Lizzy and Mika started shooting too, and it burned white. So the fire was out, but the walkers were fresh from it. 

Meaning it wasn't very far away at all. Hell, you thought angrily as you nailed the second to last one, you probably could have gotten there and back in one day to check it out. If you hadn't fucked up your ankle, that is. 

In the sudden silence when the last walker dropped, Tyreese turned to you and nodded, smiling. You nodded back, but your attention was on the way Carol hugged Lizzy, and Lizzy's hands shook as she shoved her gun back into the holster. 

"I had to help stop them," Lizzy said slowly. 

She and Carol sat at the table, Carol shelling pecans and Lizzy staring into space instead of working on the puzzle she and Mika had started. Tyreese slept in the chair, or at least had his head tipped back and his eyes closed, while Mika and Judith played on the floor and you sat looking blindly at the pencil and paper Mika had brought to you with an excited glow in her eyes. 

"Miss Ace, look! I found you stuff so you can draw!" She'd beamed as she said it, so pleased with herself that you'd swallowed the lump in your throat and pasted on a smile as you said thank you. 

So far you hadn't sketched a line. You didn't know if you would. Hell, you didn't know if you could. 

"Do you understand now? What they are?" Carol asked Lizzy, which had your eyebrow lifting. What they were? They were the dead. They wanted to eat you and yours and turn you into dead bastards with them. It was basic, primal hunger. 

They weren't friends. They were the enemy. Fighting your way out of a hospital while you yelled 'what the fuck?' at Daryl over and over had taught you that pretty damn quickly. 

Lizzy sighed and you watched the two of them, trying to figure out what was going on in that girl's head. You'd long since given up on getting a read from Carol when she looked like that; her poker face was the best you'd ever seen. She'd tell you what she was thinking soon enough anyway. 

"I know what I have to do now," Lizzy said finally. "I know." 

"It's ugly. And it's scary. And it does change you," Carol told her bluntly. "That's how we get to be here. That's the cost. That's- that's growing up now."

You shifted and set aside the paper and pencil, knowing you wouldn't be making art tonight. You had a feeling, if your Dickhead was gone, you wouldn't be making art ever again. "It's not easy. The first few times, it's- it's like you're in a nightmare and you can't wake up. I had baptism by fire, fighting my way out of the hospital while I was still messed up from the beating Mal gave me. I'd have died there if it hadn't been- hadn't been for my brothers. But Lizzy, I can promise you- it is not the same as killing a living person. You know that. You saved me and Tyreese, back at the prison, taking out that one-eyed bastard's people. You know it's different." 

"I don't wanna hurt anyone. I don't wanna be mean," Mika said quietly. 

Lizzy gave her sister a long, sad look. "You have to be sometimes. But just sometimes."

That, you disagreed with. It wasn't mean you needed to be, but hard. And it wasn't just sometimes. 

"Ace, clean ya shit up, damn it!" 

You blinked, struggling to pull your eyes away from your project. You finally got your hands to still, taking the pen from the paper and looking up at your older brother. He towered over where you sat cross-legged on the floor, glaring at the mess scattered around your small bedroom. 

"I'm working. I'll clean it up when I'm done," you told him snidely, already being drawn back in. 

The project was only half-done, after all, with the crumpled book pages that finally dried to the canvas and the background colors and graffiti all layered in. Watercolors, acrylics, and some pen and ink gave it texture and interest, the mixed media perfect for the dark, gritty feel you wanted for the self-portrait. You'd just started inking in the silhouette finally and you- 

"Hey! Lil sis! Focus!" 

You groaned and glared back up at Merle. "What? What do you want? This is for school, asshole. I'm getting graded. I'll clean it up when it's done." 

"Ya'll clean it up now unless ya want ya ass beat. Will'll be home soon, and if he sees this shit everywhere it'll be hell to pay." 

You grimaced and looked at the clock in the corner. "Fuck." 

"Wash that mouth out, girlie," Merle shot at you as you started frantically gathering up your supplies. You flipped him off and he chuckled, but he crouched and absently began sorting your shit into mediums the way you stored it. "What's this gonna be, anyway? Looks like street art, but inside." 

You beamed at him. "Thank you! That's exactly what it's supposed to look like. It's for the showcase at school. I was assigned a self portrait, so that's what this is." 

"Self-portrait, huh? When'd ya fuckin' start smokin'?" he demanded. "Ya fourteen. Too damn young for lung cancer." 

"Pot, fuckin' kettle," you fired back with a roll of your eyes. 

Insistent banging on the front door had you pausing, eyes shooting to Merle's in surprise. Will didn't knock, and no one ever came to visit except the building manager looking for rent money you didn't have to give him. Merle's face went hard and something like lead crept into your stomach. He knew who it was, and your brother was not happy about it. He almost- he almost looked worried. 

"Stay here," he ordered, handing you the stack of dictionary pages he'd been straightening. "Clean up." He rose and headed toward the living room, and you slid your project under your bed to finish drying, giving him a couple of heartbeats before you followed him. Fuck staying there; nothing good would come of that look on your big brother's face. 

"The fuck ya think ya doin', showin' up here?" Merle's voice was low and dangerous. 

You half-hid behind the hallway wall as you tried to see who he was talking to. At eighteen, he was getting into gang life a little too deeply, and you were worried. He was an adult now; if he got busted it wouldn't be a stint in juvie and right back home. 

It'd be jail. 

"You don't talk to us like that, asshole. Not when you're fresh blood. We caught something that belongs to you. Thought we'd do you a favor and bring it back. Maybe leave you a little message." 

"Get ya hands off my brother right now. He ain't got nothin' to do with this," Merle snarled. 

Daryl. You rounded the corner in an instant, heart in your throat and hands shaking with adrenaline. Everything in you wanted to run and hide like Merle had told you, but it was your twin and it was Merle. Dixons looked out for each other, damn it. 

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" you yelled, seeing some Vatos punk at your door with his hand around Daryl's throat. Daryl had a black eye, which wasn't exactly unusual for him, and his arm twisted up behind his back by another jackass in gang colors. A third hovered just behind them and all three turned interested eyes toward you as you faked confidence and strode toward Merle. 

"I told ya to stay put, girlie," Merle snapped, not taking his eyes from the leader. "Do what I say." 

"No, no," the asshole with his hand on your brother's throat disagreed, eyes raking up and down your body. "She should stay. Hello, beautiful. What's your name?" 

"None of your goddamn business. Let him go," you snapped. 

"I fuckin' told ya-" 

"You shouldn't speak to the lady like that, newbie. We respect our women in this family. Ain't that right, boys?" The head asshole licked his lips and raised his eyebrows at Merle. "Especially when they fine as hell and got balls too. Come on now. What's your name, lil mama?"

"She's fourteen," Merle said, an edge of something like fear in his voice. That couldn't be right, though, because Merle wasn't scared of anything. Not Will, not jail, not the cops; nothing. 

But it sure sounded like fear when he continued, shifting so he half-blocked the leader's view of you. "Look, message received. I'll be there tonight, jus' leave 'em outta this. They kids."

The asshole leaned around Merle to rake his eyes over you one more time, making an appreciative noise. "Damn shame. Call me in a couple years, honey. I don't do jailbait." He turned his attention back to Merle and poked a finger at his chest. "Better be there tonight, fresh meat. Or we'll come back for another visit." 

The prick holding Daryl's arm gave him a shove and he stumbled forward, catching himself easily and standing shoulder to shoulder with Merle. Both of your brothers crossed their arms and glared, filling the doorway as the spokesman blew you a kiss and jerked his head at the others to go. No spoke again until they were out of sight.

Merle slammed the door and whirled, eyes wild. "Ya aight, lil brother? They ain't hurt ya none, did they?" 

"M'fine," Daryl muttered. "Grabbed me just outside. Was on my way in. Merle, what the fuck ya into?" 

"Yeah, I wanna know that too," you agreed, giving Daryl a quick once over as well. He rolled his eyes at you and you stuck your tongue out before looking expectantly at Merle. 

He glared at you both. "Nothin' ya need to go stickin' ya noses into. Ace, when I tell ya to fuckin' stay put, ya stay put, hear me? Those ain't the kinda people ya wanna attract attention from, sis." 

"Then maybe you shouldn't be hanging around them either!" you fired back, anger warring with worry at Merle's evasions. "Seriously, the Vatos are-" 

"Are my ticket outta this hellhole, an' yours too, through me. Don't ya worry about it. Go get our room cleaned up 'fore Will gets back." 

"Merle-" you pressed, and he glared at you. 

"Do as I say, Ace! Damn it!" 

"Fine," you muttered, flinching back when he yelled. "Don't need to be a dick about it." 

Merle's face softened and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes as Daryl's fingers brushed yours. "Sorry, sis. Ain't gonna be a good night, an' I don't like 'em showin' up here. Imma- Imma have to move out faster'n I'd planned, you two. Just so ya know, I may not be able to bring ya with me right away. Ya gonna have to deal with Will on ya own. You'll have to look out for each other." 

Daryl scoffed, his hand gripping yours now. "Think we don't do that already? We been watchin' out for each other every time ya ass gets tossed in juvie."

"It'll be different, if I leave," Merle warned. "Take care of ya sister, ya hear me?" 

"Merle?" you whispered, fear rushing in at the finality of his tone. "You doin' something stupid tonight like getting yourself killed?" 

He flashed you a cocky grin. "Naw. Just makin' sure ya ready, in case. Gotta stay hard, baby sis. Be prepared. Watch ya backs." 

You bit at your lip and clutched Daryl's hand as Merle pulled on a battered leather vest and headed toward the door. You had a sinking feeling he wasn't coming back, and you were scared. 

"Merle." 

He turned in the doorway and lifted an eyebrow. "What?" 

"Be careful?" you whispered. "Love you, you idiot." 

"I'm always careful. Don't get sentimental now." 

The next morning you swore up and down that your ankle was fine and you could go do something, like hunt or look for water. You were informed by a mutiny of all hands that you would take it easy for one more day. 

"Maybe sleep, damn it," Carol muttered, giving you a look that said she knew you'd been up all night staring out the window in the kitchen with Mika's paper and pencil on the table in front of you. 

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," you shot back pleasantly. Ok, if that look she shot you was any indication, it was more bitchy than pleasant. Oh well, you were tired of being cooped up and treated like an invalid. You wanted to hit the road, find Terminus, and get back to looking for your family. 

Tears sprang up and dripped onto the paper now propped on your knees. You muttered a curse and swiped at them, annoyed with yourself for messing up the only paper you had. Maybe you couldn't bring yourself to draw on it yet, but goddamn it you wanted the option. Supplies were limited, and there was no need to waste them because you couldn't control your emotions. 

All you did was streak the tears and rip the page in one place. You stared at the damp spots, mind swirling with your brothers and your best friend and painting in the sunlight while Shane watched you- in Atlanta, in your apartment, in the prison. Somehow Shane had twinned himself up into the art that had always been your escape, and his eyes when he looked at your work warred with Merle's satisfied smirk when he handed you your first sketchbook and Daryl's grumbled bitching about keeping your shit on your side of the room as your vision blurred with more tears. Grief threatened to swamp you until you thought you might explode with it; with memories of them tied up in your need to create and bring beauty into the world. Rather than let it out, you ground your teeth together with a snarl and set pencil to paper. 

You couldn't handle facing it, so you'd use it and shape it instead, and maybe then you could control it. 

It was quiet when the art finally let you go. Too damn quiet, since there were supposed to be three children in the house with you, including a baby. Purged and spent, you tossed down the pencil and stretched upward with a groan before the silence hit you and your heart started to pound. 

Shit. What a mother you were. Getting so lost in a drawing you didn't know where any of the kids in your charge were, including Shane's baby. 

Drawing clutched in your hand out of habit, you searched the house for them frantically but silently. There was no sign of them inside, and you snatched up the rifle, mind racing with everything that could have gone wrong as you flung open the door and saw- 

"Oh my god," you whispered, horrified. The gun fell from your hands, and you stared at the sight before you, as frozen as Carol and Tyreese, holding the water pail between them. 

"Don't worry. She'll come back," Lizzy said, voice cheerful and bright in the horrified silence. Blood dripped from the knife she held and coated her hands to the elbows, and she stood in the wet grass at her sister's side and smiled at all three of you. "I didn't hurt her brain."

On a blanket, where you could see blood beginning to seep onto the edge and creep slowly toward her like it was trying to take her too, Judith started to wail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I'm back! Thanks for hanging in through my unexpected holiday hiatus. Travel and family had me running, but it was so worth it. Hope everyone's holidays were good and much love to you all! 
> 
> XOXO, JustRamblinOn


	23. Lie #23: “He Sure As Hell Wasn’t Going To Remember It” — Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
Suicidal thoughts  
Mentions of past child abuse

After torching the cabin, they wandered for a couple days. Daryl seemed better somehow, after his drunken meltdown. Like maybe letting all those emotions out had done him some good. Beth bounced back from her first hangover pretty quickly, all things considered, and seemed as cheerful and optimistic as ever. And Shane- well, somehow Shane kept on keeping on.

He put one foot in front of the other, listened with half an ear as Daryl taught Beth about the crossbow and tracking, and tried not to think too hard about anything in particular. He washed Ace's shirt out, in a stream they found, and puked for awhile like he was the hungover one when the water turned red and murky. That night on watch, he pulled the bullet from his pocket and actually loaded it in the chamber. 

He didn't pull the trigger. He put the flannel on instead, woke Dixon up by nudging him with his foot, and slept for the first time in more hours than he wanted to think about. 

If he dreamed, it was of her, and he sure as hell wasn't going to remember it.

Now Daryl had Beth leading the way on the trail of something- probably a walker, if Shane had any tracking skills whatsoever- and they were talking quietly. Shane trailed them, lost as usual in his own thoughts, but Beth's whispered "it has a gun" sure got his attention. So did her pained cry when she hit the bear trap in the clearing and went down. 

He pulled his knife and darted forward at the same time Dixon did, and he snorted when the girl fired a bolt through the thing's jaw. "Close," he told Beth dryly. 

Daryl took down the walker while Shane took a look at her ankle. "Think it's just twisted."

"Aight," Daryl grunted. "Shot wasn't half-bad." 

"I missed his brain," Beth disagreed, grimacing as Shane manipulated her ankle. 

Daryl heaved a bolt back into place. "Hit ya target. Better'n Ace did, first time she shot. Missed the whole thing, broke the bolt, and-" he cut off abruptly. 

"And what?" Beth asked, eyes wide and innocent. 

Shane snorted. "And probably got beat by their bastard father. Am I right?" 

"Mmhhmm," Daryl said softly. "Hit Will's truck. His fault, for puttin' the targets facin' that way. He don't see it like that, though. Beat her for a bit, refused to teach her anymore. We was seven or so, I think. Merle was in juvie at the time." 

Shane nodded, his heart clenching, and pulled Beth to her feet. "We need to keep moving. Find a place to let Beth get off the ankle." 

They found a funeral home. Daryl piggy-backed Beth inside and Shane cleared the place alone and tried not to think about clearing houses with Rick at his back.

Like that time they’d been on a missing kid call, and they’d gone to question the dad. It was almost guaranteed to be family, see, and Shane hated it but Rick hated it worse. They’d both been silent when they pulled up to the house and heard the kid screaming bloody murder. 

They’d saved the kid- who was screaming “I wanna go home” at the dad he saw once a year and didn’t fucking remember, poor little dude- and arrested the dad. The little boy’s mom had called them heroes, and it’d been a good day.

Funny, Shane had saved that kid but he couldn’t save his own. 

"It's so clean," Beth said when he gestured her and Dixon into the front room, looking at the swept floors. 

"Someone's been tendin' to it. May still be around," Daryl agreed. He shoot Shane a significant look that had Beth glancing between them in confusion.

Shane nodded without saying a word and headed downstairs. 

In the embalming room, Shane barely spared a glance at the walkers stretched out on shiny metal tables. Someone had dressed them neatly and cleaned them up, which Ace would have had a comment on, but Shane didn't give a shit. They were dead; that's all Shane cared about. 

He kept clearing while Daryl wrapped Beth's ankle and they argued about the walkers. Shane tuned out the bickering like he seemed doomed to tune out Ace’s brothers while on the road and focused on looking the place over, because Beth and Daryl had been right. This place was too well tended. Someone was living here and maintaining the place, and they wouldn't be far away if they were still alive. 

Or, more likely, there was a walking corpse waiting around a corner they just hadn’t gotten to yet. 

Back upstairs, they found the kitchen and scored big. 

"Peanut butter and jelly, diet soda, and pig's feet. That's a white trash brunch right there," Daryl said, tossing Beth a slight smirk as they scanned the filled shelves. 

"This is somebody's stash," Shane observed. "Ain't any dust on it. "

"Means they just put it in. Could still be alive," Daryl said slowly. "Aight, we'll take some of it and leave the rest." 

Shane wandered to the window and peered out across the graveyard toward the trees. If the someone was still alive, where the fuck were they? And how many someones were they talking here?

"I knew it," Beth said, the smile in her voice audible even without looking her way. "It's like I said. There are still good people. Oh, gross!" 

Shane glanced back at the last bit to see Daryl scooping jelly straight from the jar with his fingers and grinning at Beth, his eyes dancing. Daryl glanced over at Shane at the right moment and laughing blue eyes met his, and- 

Shane turned on his heel and strode out the door. "I'm gonna check the perimeter."

Beth played the piano softly by candlelight, singing under her breath as she did. Shane had stretched out over the chairs in the parlor, gathered and waiting for mourners that would never come. 

Funerals these days were a quick hole dug and a body rolled in, maybe a marker if you were lucky. It wasn't family and friends crying and talking about their lost loved ones, dressed in fancy clothes and gathered around a coffin. 

Hell, Shane thought viciously, reaching into his pocket and fingering the bullet. Sometimes, you didn't get even that much. Sometimes, the ones you loved just got fucking eaten by the dead, until there was nothing left of them but a puddle of goop unrecognizable as human and a blood-soaked flannel shirt. 

Beth stopped playing abruptly and Shane looked up to see Daryl hopping into the coffin and stretching out. He snorted and closed his eyes again, not caring where Dixon chose to lay his head. 

And maybe not willing to think about Dixons and coffins anymore right then. 

"Place is nailed up tight. Only way in is through the front door," Daryl said. "This is the comfiest bed I've had in years." 

"Really?" Beth's voice sounded mildly disgusted. 

"I ain't kidding. Why don't you go ahead and play some more. Keep singin'?" Daryl asked, sounding amost shy. 

"I thought my singin' annoyed you," Beth countered. 

Daryl scoffed. "Well. Ain't no jukebox, so…" he trailed off and Beth laughed softly. 

Quiet music filled the air again and Shane opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Maybe the cracks in the unfamiliar plaster would banish the image of Ace's living room, her voice lifting with some sappy love song and the smell of paint and charcoal filling the air as she worked. Maybe the sight of the chair backs he'd pulled together for a bed would clear away how her couch cushions felt against his back, or the pattern of the throw she'd started keeping tossed haphazardly over the couch for him to use. 

Maybe the flickering candlelight would erase soft morning sun hitting his eyelids, her curled in a chair with a sketchpad on her lap and a pencil moving in her hands, earbuds on and lips silently mouthing the lyrics. Maybe the lingering taste of baked beans and warm soda would drive away her teasing him about gold dust coffee and him yelling at her about fruity yogurt looking shampoo in her shower.

He was still thinking of maybes when Beth blew out the candles and curled up on the floor nearby, a pillow from one of the other coffins beneath her head.

Shane clenched the bullet in his fist and promised Ace he'd see her soon. 

"I'm gonna leave a thank you note," Beth declared the next night. 

Shane glanced over at her, wondering what the fuck good that would do. Whoever had been holed up here hadn't come back all that day, which he considered a good thing what with the current state of the world and all. Even better had been an absence of walkers. 

Only time they'd been disturbed was the stray dog that morning. 

Daryl glanced over Shane's way and he lifted one shoulder in a shrug, choking down another bite of canned chili sauce rather than have either of them try to draw him into the conversation. From the corner of his eye, he watched Daryl watch Beth and wondered what the hell they were going to do next.

Beth bent back over her notepad, already writing, when Daryl finally asked. "Why?" 

"For when they come back," Beth answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the universe. Like there was a chance they would come back, and Shane's mood turned like mercury. He shoved the can away and rose, heading for the door, before he said something he'd regret. 

Why the hell should some random jackass who dressed walkers for funerals get to come back, no matter how beautiful Beth found it that someone cared, when his Slugger and his baby girl didn't? 

Neither Daryl or Beth said anything as he left the room, but he heard Daryl's sigh. He didn't fucking care. Dixon could kiss his goddamn ass for all he cared. 

Shane leaned against the wall, tuning out their voices as Beth and Daryl started talking again, and closed his eyes. His fingers wrapped around the bullet in his pocket and he didn't remember reaching for it. 

Judith was a baby. A fucking infant. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to live and she had it ripped from her. Had she been scared? Had she cried? 

Jesus fucking Christ, of course she had. All that terror and pain in her short, tiny, beautiful life- it was almost enough to make Shane wish she’d never been born, if only so she never had to suffer.

Why didn’t she get to come back? Why didn’t Shane get to rescue her, be the hero for his own child?

Because he was never the hero for the ones he loved, he thought savagely. He never saved the ones that mattered. Like Judy. Like Rick and Carl. Like Ace. 

Ace had put real beauty in the world. Not Beth’s fake ‘caring for the dead’ ‘find something beautiful in this hellscape’ beauty. Who gave a shit? They were dead. 

Ace had created. She'd made magic out of a blank, bare surface and a can of spray paint, or charcoal, or pastels, or chalk, or whatever the hell she put her hands on that would leave a line where she told it to. 

Fuck, Ace had been real beauty in the world. She could make anyone smile and feel better after a moment of her time, and she had- 

He jerked like he’d been gut punched. She had. 

The cans rattled at the door and he shoved the bullet back in his pocket, pulling his gun as Dixon came from the kitchen. 

"Just the dog," Daryl offered, gesturing with the jar of peanut butter and pretending not to notice the tear tracks Shane could feel on his face. "Heard it bark."

He jerked a shoulder. "Better be safe anyway."

“Yeah, fine." 

Shane waited a couple paces back, gun loose in his hand, as Daryl yanked open the door. "Fuck!" 

"Hey, what can I- Officer." The cheerful greeting fell flat when she looked at him and Shane's shoulders hunched. 

Yeah, ok, he'd earned that- and the tongue lashing he'd gotten last time he was here. In his defense, he hadn't been trying to insult her, but there was no way she'd ever believe that. Not that he’d blame her for it. But still, he didn't like the way those blue eyes had cooled when they met his, or the way her tone shifted abruptly. 

He didn't know why he was back. Hell, he hadn't intended to come back. Certainly not on a Thursday night, even if he was off tomorrow. He'd just waved goodbye to Rick outside the station and thought- yeah. He'd go to Atlanta. If the blue-haired bartender was there, he'd apologize. If not, he'd get a drink, maybe grab a room up there and hit the stores the next day. He needed some shit that was a little harder to come by in King County, like a suit for that wedding next month and a gift for his mother for her birthday. He never knew what to get her, but he knew he wouldn't find it in King County. 

So here he was, and here the bartender was, and he bit his lip and gave her a hopeful half-smile. "Guess you remember me, huh? Listen, I want to apologize. Don't know what the hell I was thinking. You were clearly busy, and- well, I swear I'm not usually an asshole. Not right away, anyway." 

Her whole face softened as she shifted, her eyes staring to dance. "You were a dickhead. But you were hardly the first and you won't be the last. Water, bridges. What can I get you? Draft?" 

"Damn. You forgive easy," he said, surprised and pleased. 

She laughed, and he found himself smiling at the sound. "Not always, but in this case, why hold a grudge? It was a rough night; you hit a nerve. Not entirely your fault- though stump the bartender is a shit game to play." 

"Ah," he said, tapping one finger on the bar as he leaned toward her. "The question is, did I succeed though?"

She laughed again, clear and delighted. "Wouldn't you like to know? Come on, what can I get you? And don't say that Lonely Island bullshit." 

"Jack and Coke," he answered, sitting back in his chair. "If that's alright with you, that is. Or you can just give me something and tell me to like it again. Worked pretty good last time." 

"Oh God." She paused, hands stilling for a moment as her eyes went wide. "God, I did do that, didn't I? Jesus. In my defense, it was a bad night." 

"Well, in my defense- actually, no, I have no defense. Shane Walsh," he introduced himself, accepting the drink from her with a smile and an extended hand. "So you don't have to just call me 'dickhead'."

She grinned and shook his hand. "I know your name. What if I like calling you dickhead? YN Dixon, but just call me Ace. Everyone does." 

"I manage to introduce myself last time before I made a fool of myself? Damn, I don't remember that," he said, surprised. "YN. Pretty name." 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and leaning on hip against the counter. She scanned the bar as they talked, checking on her people and making a face at the waitress on the floor. "Nice line. No one uses it; if you call me that I might not even know who you're talking to. You left me a note, remember? Along with way too high of a tip." 

Shane sipped the Jack and Coke and shook his head. "Naw, it wasn't. Ace it is then. How'd you get the nickname?" 

She rolled her eyes and made a vaguely rude gesture in the direction of the kitchen as someone in the back called her name insistently. "I'll be right there! Jesus, it's fuckin' dead here and they act like we're swamped. It's a long story. Childhood nickname. Want anything to eat before I go back there and see what all the screaming is about?" 

"The nachos were good, first time I was here. Could handle a plate," he decided, already determined to get her to tell him that long story.

"Coming right up," she said with another easy smile, and shoved a strand of blue hair behind her ear as she turned to the kitchen. 

"Beth!" Shane yelled, firing off a shot as Daryl tried to use his back to slam the door closed. 

She came skidding into the hallway, Daryl's crossbow in her hands, and Daryl gestured for it. She tossed it and he met Shane's eyes, letting out a stressed breath and bracing himself. 

"Beth, get back. Go! Get your shit and pry open a window," Shane ordered, nodding to Daryl. 

Daryl sprang away from the door and Shane took another shot, wondering how many bullets were left in his damn magazine. It couldn't have been many. Walkers boiled in after them, and Daryl turned and fired a bolt over his shoulder as he passed Shane.

"I'm not leaving you two!"

"Get out to the road! We'll meet ya up there!" Daryl yelled as Shane used the butt of his gun to smash in a walker's head that got too damn close for comfort. "Run, Beth!" 

Daryl grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him out of the way of a dead bastard's snapping teeth. "Down?" 

"Yeah, whatever," Shane agreed, and they lead the walkers on. 

It was a big enough herd Shane got worried. He saved Daryl from a bite at the last second, and between them they got a break and made it out through the window Beth had pried open. 

Problem being, she wasn't there. 

Her gear was, bag spilling out on the road, Daryl's cash for kindling and a couple of cans laying on the pavement. Daryl stabbed at a dead fuck who came out of nowhere while Shane cast a terrified look around, hoping she was nearby and just had to drop the bag to handle a walker or something. 

Tires squealing had Shane's head whipping to the road, feet already in motion, as a car with the white cross on the back windshield sped off into the night. 

"Beth! Beth!" Daryl yelled, but Shane saved his breath for the run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE ❤️


	24. Lie #24: “Thinking About It” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
Suicidal thoughts   
Minor character death (canon)

They ran until they couldn't run. Then they walked. 

Neither of them spoke as the sun rose and they followed the road, trying to catch up to a car both of them knew was gone. Trying to catch a girl both of them knew was gone. 

Shane shut his mind down and put one foot in front of the other, until they came to the crossroads and Daryl- 

Well, Daryl collapsed. 

Shane scanned the road, empty of all signs, and collapsed beside him. They still didn't say a word. 

There were six of them. Shane sat beside Daryl and counted feet as they slowly made a ring around him and Dixon. Twelve feet, boots and frayed denim and mud and blood stains. Weapons in hands, guns and a compound bow. Weapons were clean enough, even if the people weren't. 

He should probably care about being surrounded, right? But Dixon obviously didn't and Shane found himself thinking how maybe he could be spared that bullet in his pocket if these pricks just did what they wanted, and Daryl wasn't moving an inch. 

Shane had a feeling Dixon had come to the same conclusion he had. They couldn't do it without Beth. What was the point in still moving, still surviving, when everyone they tried to take care of just died?

"You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon." Beth had said it drunkenly to Daryl, sitting on the porch in the dark, before they'd burned the shack. She'd said he'd be the last man standing, and hell. Shane agreed with her. 

Cause if these assholes didn't kill them both, Shane would take Jenner's opt out. He couldn't do it anymore. He missed his baby, and his brother and his nephew, and God help him he missed his Ace too damn much to keep trudging through shit and loss and death for no reason. Not even for her brother.

"Well, lookit here." 

Shane didn't move when the voice spoke, but when he reached for the bow and Daryl decked him, Shane exploded into motion as well. He had his gun up and trained on one fucker, right between the eyes, and his back to Daryl's. 

"Dammit, hold up!" the leader called, and the other four- Shane's four, thanks for those odds, Dixon- paused. 

"I'm claiming the vest. I like them wings," the one with bow said, smirk on his lips as he met Shane's eyes. 

"Hold up." The head asshole started laughing, and Shane shifted when Daryl did. He kept Dixon at his back and his eyes on his target, but they were outnumbered and Shane knew they couldn't take them all down, if things turned. 

"A bow man," head asshole said. "I respect that. See, a man with a rifle, he could have been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day. But a bowman's a bowman, through and through. And your friend back there. He might not be a bowman, but we won't hold that against him. Way he's standing, grip on that gun. He ain't twitched once and was on your back like a burr on a hog. Professional, I tell you. Thinkin' military. What have you got there, 150 pound draw weight?" 

Shane's teeth ground together. He didn't like this asshole, and he'd stake a fair claim Daryl didn't either when he didn't respond to the other man's question. The others in the group were rough, wild, and Shane's cops eyes pegged them as petty crooks and dregs of society types. Like Merle and like Daryl himself, but missing what made those Dixon boys alright under it. 

Missing something like Ace, he thought before he could stop it. 

"I'll be donkey-licked if that don't fire at least three hundred feet per second," head asshole continued. "I've been lookin' for a weapon like that. Course, I'd want one with a bit more ammo and uh, minus the oblongata stains." 

So would Shane, considering he figured he had about five rounds left in his Glock and he knew Daryl had three bolts for that damn bow. And this guy, the head guy- he spoke with authority and the jerks he had in his sight listened, even the one who wanted Daryl's vest. Shane pegged him for a gang leader of some sort, back in the day, but not like the Vatos. Motorcycle gang, he decided without any real evidence. 

The dick who wanted Daryl's vest laughed, and it was mean. Something about it set Shane's back up and he almost switched to aiming at that guy. But Shane could see him clearly without taking his eyes off his target, and the asshole held the bow in a way that suggested he was more thunder than lightening, whereas Shane's target never wavered and never broke eye contact. Compound bow asshole was a first class poser and the least threat of all of them. 

Shane's opinion was only confirmed when the asshole opened his mouth. "Get yourself in some trouble, partner?" 

Head asshole ignored the bow prick too, which Shane might have found amusing if it weren't for the gun in his face and the other one trained on his head. 

"You pull that trigger, these boys are gonna drop you and your friend several times over. Oh, you'll take me and I have no doubt military man there will drop Tony like he's a hot potato, but the end result will be the same. That really what you want?" 

Daryl didn't say anything and frankly Shane was just following his lead, because going down and taking one of these pricks with him sounded like a decent idea all things considered. Head asshole sighed. 

"Come on, fellas, suicide is stupid. Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?" There was a pause, and his tone changed when he continued. "Name's Joe." 

Shane felt Daryl drop the crossbow and he did the same, lowering his gun but keeping it in his hand. 

"Daryl. Shane." 

Guess Dixon had decided they weren't going down in a blaze of glory after all. Shane shot a glance his way as the assholes all lowered their weapons and started walking again. Daryl lifted one shoulder in a shrug and jerked his chin. 

Shane stuffed his gun back in his holster, reached into his pocket and touched the bullet, and put one foot in front of the other. 

A walker rattling the cans had him starting upright, hand on his knife. 

"I got it." One of the assholes- Shane hadn't bothered to learn their names and had no intentions of doing so- used a bayonette on his rifle to take out the dead guy as camp started to stir. 

Shane saw Dixon was gone about two seconds before someone else made the observation about the 'Robin Hood cat' lighting out. Eyes in camp turned to him and he ignored them all. 

"Left his shit and his girlfriend here. Probably just went out to drop a morning deuce," the poser with the compound bow said, staring at Shane to see if the 'girlfriend' comment would get a rise from him. 

Shane closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep. 

Daryl and Shane hung back. Silence reigned, but Shane glanced at the set of Daryl's jaw and knew something was up. 

"What are we doin', man?" he finally asked, voice low and rusty. "Should be looking for Beth." 

Daryl flinched. "Beth's gone. Stick with these assholes, for a bit. Joe's aight. Got some rules'n shit , keep 'em in line." 

"Like what?" Shane scanned the trees, on the lookout for walkers, as Joe glanced back toward them. 

"Got this- this stupid system. Gotta say shit's 'claimed' and when they claim it, it's theirs. And they punish people somehow."

Shane sensed a story there and almost asked, but he had a feeling their time to talk was about to be limited. "Punk ass with the bow's gonna be a problem." 

"Yeah, no shit," Daryl muttered. "We'll stick with 'em for a bit. Branch off when we feel like it. Less ya gonna use that damn bullet ya keep holdin'." 

Shane slid his hand from his pocket. "Thinking about it." 

"Well, don't. Nobody can survive alone out here. Need ya help, asshole, and my sister loved ya. So I'll keep ya ass alive, for her."

Shane shot a look at Daryl's profile, surprise flickering through him. "What are you gonna do, take my gun?" 

"If I gotta. Shut up, Joe's comin'," Daryl muttered, and hitched the crossbow on his shoulder.

Shane went back to scanning the trees, barely sparing Joe a glance as he dropped back to join them. 

"Boys ok back here?" Joe asked, all affable. 

Daryl grunted. Shane said nothing. 

"Your friend's a tough nut to crack, Daryl. I get it. Hard world out here. Lost someone, didn't you? My apologies. So what's the plan, Daryl?" 

"Whatcha mean?" Dixon asked. 

Shane was wondering why the fuck they were following these railroad tracks, but he didn't feel like asking. And hell, it was as good an idea as any. 

"Well, you're with us now, but you ain't soon, right? So what's the plan?" Joe pressed. 

Daryl glanced at Shane. "Just lookin' for the right place is all." 

"We ain't good enough for you, huh?" Joe smoked a cigarette and Shane tried not to think about Ace stubbing one out on a whiskey label wall, laughing with her friends. 

"Some of ya ain't exactly friendly." 

Joe chuckled. "You're not so friendly yourself. Shane even less so." 

Shane flipped him off. Joe laughed harder. Shane went back to staring at the tracks at his feet. 

"You need a group. Everyone does." 

Shane and Daryl snorted at the same time. "Maybe we don't," Daryl countered. 

"Yes, you do. You know that. Everyone does. People don't gotta be friendly. They don't gotta be nice. You just gotta follow the rules."

Up ahead, the assholes took down a walker, three of them working together with the easy rhythm of those who'd done this shit before. Shane thought about working with Rick, with Carl, with Daryl and Ace and even Merle, and his fingers brushed the bullet in his pocket again. 

"You claim. If you steal, you keel. I know it sounds funny, but nobody's laughing when things go missing. And you don't lie. 'Cause that's a slippery slope indeed," Joe said, that friendly, fatherly-leader thing firmly in place. 

Shane almost asked the question, but Daryl beat him to it. "What happens if ya break 'em?" 

"Oh, you catch a beatin'. The severity of which depends on the offense and the general attitude of the day." 

That one got Shane to snort out a half-laugh, 'cause well- the general attitude of the day was shit, and always would be. 

"Give it here." 

Shane opened one eye. Len- compound bow asshole- stood over Daryl, eyes pissed and body language spoiling for a fight. Shane sat up and glanced at Dixon, waiting for his cue. He was just following Ace's brother right now, and if Daryl wanted a fight, Shane was good with it. 

Especially this prick. 

"You step back," Daryl warned. 

"My half was in the bag. Now it's gone. Ain't nobody around here interested in a half a damn cottontail but you!" 

When Daryl climbed to his feet Shane did the same, confused as fuck but not unwilling to fight over half a rabbit. Shit, he'd fought over less before. Joe stepped toward them and Shane shifted so he could keep one eye on Joe as well as on Len. 

"You're the only one still thinkin' about that crap!" Daryl yelled, his gestures big and pissed in a way Shane hadn't seen since the camp in Atlanta. Dixon's own temper was rising to match this asshole's and Shane shot a look around at the others as he wondered if this was the best idea after all. 

No one else was moving, so he did a mental shrug. They'd deal with it if it came to a fight. 

"Empty your bag." 

"I said, step back," Daryl snarled when Len made a move in his gear's direction. Shane moved to block Joe when he started forward and the bastard smiled at him slightly. 

"Oh, you don't wanna do that, son. Daryl, hand over the bag. We'll just take a look and see what's what," Joe said slowly and reasonably. 

Shane waited until Daryl kicked the bag over to Joe before he stepped aside, Joe’s eyes on his amused and considering. He bent and grabbed the bag, sighing as he straightened back up. "Did you take his rabbit, Daryl? Just tell me the truth."

"I didn't take nothin'," Daryl snarled. 

Joe nodded. "What have we got here? Come on." 

He upended the trashbag Daryl had been hauling shit around in, and out fell Daryl’s small collection of possessions- including the front half of a rabbit. Shane's eyebrows went up and he shot a glance at Daryl. Daryl's hot eyes met Shane's and he tilted his head in question, but he knew by the look in the other man’s eyes Daryl had no idea how the rabbit had fucking gotten there.

"You put that there, didn't ya? When I went out to take a piss!" Daryl was up in Len's face and Shane started to back him up, but Joe reached out a hand and grabbed his arm. 

Shane looked from the hand on his arm to Joe while Daryl and Len yelled at each other. Joe let go and lifted both hands in silent apology before stepping around him to get between Daryl and Len. 

"He lied and he stole! Are we gonna teach this fool or what?" Len yelled. 

"Whoa, whoa." Joe's voice was soothing and reasonable. "Now Daryl says he didn't take your half of the rabbit, so we got a little conundrum here. Either he's lying, which is an actionable offense, or…." Joe chuckled, turning to Len. "Or you didn't plant it on him like some lyin', pussy, punk-ass, cheatin' coward cop, did you? Cause while that wouldn't specifically be breaking the rules, it'd be disappointing." 

Daryl looked at Shane and Shane lifted one shoulder slightly. He didn't have a fucking clue what was going on, and he honestly didn't care. He just wanted to know if he could punch anybody today, was all. 

Something flickered in Len's eyes, in the way he swallowed, and Shane laughed. All eyes turned to him, including Joe's, and Shane nodded Len's direction. "He planted it." 

"You lyin'-" 

Shane was in Len's face in a blink, one hand on his throat and the other in a punch he pulled barely a breath from Len’s nose. Someone muttered a curse and in the back of his mind, Shane registered the click of a hammer bring pulled back on a gun. He figured that was Dixon’s problem to deal with and tightened his grip on the dick’s throat. Shane stared Len dead in the eyes and waited for him to make another move, holding onto his temper by a thread. 

"He speaks!" Joe declared after a long whistle. "And he can move; holy shit. Now, look here, Shane. I'm going to need you to let go of him now." 

"Or what?" Shane snarled. 

"Or, we have a little more justice to mete out today than I thought. Step back now, son, and let's get us to the bottom of this, shall we?" Joe clapped him on the back and Shane knocked his hand away, letting go of Len and rounding on Joe. 

Joe was as good a target as any, and would probably put up a better fight than the punk ass Len.

"Again, that's a bad idea, son," Joe warned softly as Shane’s fists clenched.

"Shane." 

He glanced at Dixon and Daryl shook his head. Shane scoffed, but he walked away, leaning on a car just behind Daryl and crossing his arms. He jerked his head in Len's direction, where the guy was rubbing his throat and glaring between Shane and Dixon. "He did it. Look at him." 

"Oh, I am. And we will get to the bottom of this. So, Len," Joe said companionably. "Did you?" 

"I didn't." Len snapped. 

"Good." Joe declared firmly. "Well…." He turned and looked at Daryl and Shane tensed. "Teach him a lesson, boys." 

Joe's fist slammed into Len's face and Shane jerked in surprise. The others fell on Len like rabid dogs, the smacks and almost wet sounding impacts of fists on flesh filling the air alongside Len’s moans.

Joe smiled at Shane. "Join in if you like. You look like you're gonna go ape if you don't hit something. He's a lyin' sack of shit and I'm sick of it. Teach him all the way, boys!" 

Daryl picked up a sheet and started to toss it over Len's body the next day. One bolt through the eye and dumped over the railing, after they'd beaten him to death- Shane almost felt a flicker of pity, cause that was a shit was to go.

Then Daryl dropped the sheet with a sneer and hitched up his crossbow, heading down the steps. "Come on, Walsh." 

Shane put one foot in front of the other.

Joe and Daryl were talking some bullshit, passing a flask of White Lightening back and forth. Shane gave Daryl a look of mild concern, but Dixon was a grown ass man. He wanted to get lit and fight again, that was fine with Shane. 

"Getting closer," Joe said, nodding to a sign. 

Daryl and Shane looked at it and then each other. "You've seen this before?" Shane asked Joe. 

"So, you do talk. I didn’t just dream that one up. Yeah, they're all over. Tell you what it is, though. It's a lie. Ain't no sanctuary for all. Ain't gonna welcome guys like you and me with open arms." Joe started back up the road as Shane scoffed. 

"I'm nothing like you," he muttered. "What are you thinking, Dixon?" 

Shane and Daryl fell into step, following the others along the tracks. "I don't know. Maybe. Hey, Joe," Daryl called. 

Joe paused so they could catch up, and Daryl jerked his head back toward the sign. "So that where we're headed?" 

"Oh, now you're asking?" 

Shane snorted. "Yeah." 

"We were in a house. Minding our own business and uh, this walking piece of fecal matter was hiding in the home. Strangled our collegue Lou and left him to turn. Lou came at all of us. He lit out, we tracked him to these tracks, one of those signs, and thus we've got a destination in mind. Now that you're talking, Shane, maybe you could tell us a little about yourself." Joe smiled at Shane, eyes hard, and Shane grunted. 

"See his face? Guy that killed your guy, I mean." 

Joe sighed. "So no to telling us about yourself. Just Tony. That's enough for a reckoning." 

Tony, just ahead of them, paused and frowned at something. Shane looked too, and turned away again immediately from the Big Cat wrapper on the tracks. 

"Claimed," Daryl declared. 

Shane jerked, but Dixon stepped just off the tracks and snatched up a plant, pulling two wild strawberries free. He offered one to Shane as they kept walking and Joe watched them with that expression Shane didn't like. 

"My man!" Shane cheered as Carl slid into home seconds ahead of the ball slamming into the goalie's glove. 

"Safe!" the ump declared, and the stand went wild with screaming from Carl's Little League team parents. 

Rick and Shane shot to their feet at the same time, pounding each other on the backs as they yelled wildly. Carl, out on the field, climbed to his feet and looked over with a massive grin. Shane tossed a thumbs up his way and collapsed with a laugh. 

"Aw, man. That's your boy, brother," he told Rick. 

His friend was watching the game, still smiling. "Yes, it is. Worth the hangover?" 

"Hmm?" Shane lifted an eyebrow and Rick gave him a dry look from the corner of his eye. 

"Whatever trouble you got into last night. She worth the hangover?"

Shane rolled his eyes, which Rick couldn't see behind his sunglasses- a necessity, thank you very much- and went back to watching the kids play. "I was just hanging with Ace, man." 

"Really? Goin' back tonight?" Rick asked. 

"Yes, really. Naw, I'm stayin' here tonight. Live music and she- get this, brother. That jackass she won't stop takin' back? He can't stand me, right. So whenever he's there and so am I, he goes home and gives her shit about hanging out with me. Wants to know if she's sleeping with me behind his back. Every damn time, she says." Shane scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned back against the step above him and watched some pint-sized asshole try to wing one by Carl's friend at bat. 

Bat connected with a crack and Carl's friend took off, and Shane whistled. 

"Are you sleeping with her?" Rick asked. 

Shane glared at him. "The hell kinda man you take me for, brother?" 

"Had to ask," Rick said placatingly. "You've just been spending a lot of time with her, is all. Texting a lot too." 

"We're friends. That's all. Had fun, that one night, but she's all hung up on this bastard and I wasn't lookin' for anything serious anyway. Friends," he said firmly, tired of the same conversation when it came to Ace. Every damn time she came up, for months. Jesus. "So anyway, cause of all this, she asks me if I'll steer clear when he's playin'." 

Rick whistled this time. "Shit. He give her that much trouble?" 

"Yeah. She looked- man, I've never seen her embarrassed before. But she looked so miserable and like she'd rather chew her own foot off than ask- course I agreed to it. She's my friend. But she deserves better than that asshole, brother, let me tell you." Shane's lip curled in a sneer and he shoved a hand through his hair. 

"Like you, maybe?" Rick muttered, and Shane shot him a look. But Rick had said it queitly enough Shane didn't know if he was supposed to have heard or not, and on the field the ref blew the whistle. 

Carl's team had won, and Shane stood up to cheer and clap with Rick, letting the comment pass. Carl came running over after the coach's huddle, face bright and sweaty. 

"Did you see me? Did you see me make the slide, Dad? Uncle Shane, did you see?" he yelled as Rick and Shane came down the bleachers to him. "Coach says I won the game!" 

"We saw," Rick said, giving Carl a hug. Shane held up a hand for a high five as Rick continued. "But your team won the game, bud." 

"Yeah, but because I made a that home run!" Carl said cheerfully, hand slapping into Shane's. "So I won it for them!" 

"He's not wrong, brother," Shane said with a laugh. "Let him have his glory. And, my friend, as a reward- if your dad agrees- I happen to have in my possession a super size Big Cat bar, and I'm looking for someone to help me eat it." 

"Yes! Dad, please?" Carl begged, grabbing Rick's hand as he groaned. 

"Thanks, brother. Lori's gonna kill me. Yes, you can have it," Rick said reluctantly, and Shane grinned as Carl punched the air and took off for Shane's Jeep. 

"Sorry, man. Tell Lor it's my fault." 

"I will. It is your fault. Shit, I might send you home with him and go to your place," Rick threatened. 

Shane just shrugged. "Don't drink all my beer."

"Why not? You're gonna drink all of mine tonight." 

Shane didn't really have an argument for that, and Carl was waving the Big Cat at him excitedly anyway.


	25. Lie #25: “Sure, Baby. My Place Or Yours?” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
Character death (canon)  
Miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
Infertility  
Teen pregnancy

"What the fuck, Carol?" you asked, eyes wide and heart pounding with adrenaline that wouldn't settle down. "What the fuck?" 

In your arms, Judith squirmed. You were probably holding her too tightly, you thought with the tiny part of your brain not currently drowning in screaming lunacy. But you didn't loosen your grip. 

She killed Mika. While you slept inside, Lizzy had killed her sister, stabbed her four times in the stomach and left her to bleed out, and was planning to do the same to Judith. So they'd turn. So that you would all see that the walkers were just like people. 

"I'm with Ace. What the fuck indeed? Carol, she can't be around people," Tyreese said slowly. 

Carol stood with her back to the two of you, staring out the window toward the blood-soaked blanket now covering Mika's body. "I know." 

"So…" you trailed off and shook your head, unable to process what you were contemplating. "She's a child. But-" 

"I know," Carol snapped, finally turning. Her face was hard and cold, and your heart broke worse for her.

She'd lost one daughter already, and now here she was losing two more, in the worst way possible. 

"I'll do it," you offered quietly. "You're not the only one who can make hard decisions." 

Tyreese rubbed a hand over his forehead. "You're talking about killing her. Like you killed Karen and David. Ace, did you help with that?" 

You glanced between them in surprise. "You know?" 

"Carol told me, while we were getting water. Figured I had a right to know," he said softly. "I understand. I don't approve, but, ah. I understand." 

"I wasn't involved. Carol, I'll do it. I can't- I can't imagine-" you started, shifting Judy when she cried out and squirmed some more. 

Carol shook her head and sighed. "No. No, I'll do it. It's my job. I said I'd look out for them. I promised their father." 

You nodded as she turned and headed for the back of the house, where they'd locked Lizzy in one of the bedrooms. Carol's shoulders were stiff and her back straight, and you blocked out the sound of a voice in your head saying this was why you didn't have kids. 

Because you couldn't keep them alive. 

You pressed your face into Judith's hair and tried to be as calm as Carol. 

Machinery beeped. Voices and movement trickled in from behind the curtain separating you from the rest of the emergency room, and you lay in the hospital bed in one of those dumbass open-backed gowns and tried not to think or feel. At least the pain had stopped. 

And hell, you thought bitterly. Your problems were solved, right? You didn't have to figure out how to be a single teen mom, or have to worry about anyone getting hurt but you while you were dodging Will. Daryl could stop doing shit with the Vatos and Merle, and maybe not go wasting his life following Merle into crime because he had to take care of his dumbass sister who'd been too stupid to use a condom. 

You hadn't wanted a baby anyway, right? So it was no big deal that you weren't going to have one anymore. 

"Hey, sis," Daryl said softly, slipping back through the curtain. 

You lifted one hand in a lazy wave and closed your eyes again. He looked too fucking sad, and you couldn't take it. 

"Talked to a nurse. Said it was aight to bring ya somethin' to eat, so Merle's goin' to rustle up some food." He brushed the back of your hand with his fingertips and settled into the chair at your side. 

You opened your eyes and smiled slightly. "Thanks. Sorry about this. Really." 

"What the hell ya sorry for? Ya didn't do nothin'." 

He sounded genuinely bewildered and you chuckled humorlessly. "Making a mess. Scaring you so bad you called Merle. Needing a ride to the hospital." 

Killing the niece or nephew you already loved more than I did, you thought, but you shoved that aside and looked away from him, swallowing hard. 

He snorted. "Shut up. Messes clean up. More worried about you. Nurse said they were waitin' on some test results, and I don't know what that means. What is there to test?"

The curtain opened and the doctor on duty walked in, nose in his clipboard. "So, Miss Dixon. You had a miscarriage." 

Your teeth ground together and Daryl tensed. "No shit," you said snidely. "I figured that one out about the time I started bleeding from the vagina. Can I go home now?" 

"You'll be discharged shortly." The doctor didn't bat an eye at your bitchiness, which shouldn't have been a surprise. He was an ER doctor after all. "We ran some tests. The end results are, you're going to be fine. Your body is discharging the fetus on its own, so no medical assistance is required. The bleeding will slow in the next few hours and be gone in a matter of days. That's the good news." 

You frowned. "So what's the bad news?" 

"Well, that's where things get difficult. I'm sorry to tell you this, but due to the traumatic nature of the miscarriage, sparked as it was by injury to the abdomen, you've suffered irreversable uterine damage. The tissue-" 

"What do you mean damage?" you interrupted. 

Daryl grabbed your hand when you groped for his, muttering something under his breath. "And what do ya mean, irreversible?" 

The doctor lowered his clipboard and looked you in the eyes for the first time since he came in the room. "I'm sorry, Miss Dixon. But it's unlikely you will be able to carry any children to term."

"We're going to go check on Mika," Carol told Lizzy as she walked down the hallway with the little girl, hand in hand. "See if- if she's back yet." 

Your eyes met Carol's as nausea rolled through you, and hers were carefully, painfully blank. You swallowed hard, carefully not looking at Lizzy as Carol lead her toward the door. If you looked too closely, you'd see a little girl who needed protecting, not the psychopath who'd killed her sister. 

You couldn't afford to feel anything else, you decided, and tried to swtich your emotions off the way you had when Malcolm was being particularly difficult. 

"I bet she's back. If she isn't, we just wait a little longer, right? Sometimes they take awhile to come back," Lizzy said brightly, just before the door banged shut. 

You breathed deeply through your nose and went to the window. This was going to hurt Carol. 

Thing was, you remembered her from the camp in Atlanta. You remembered her in the CDC, and on Hershel's farm before the barn opened. You remembered her from before the winter when she turned into a badass, and you knew what had given her that strength and the raw determination to do anything to protect your people. 

It was what had gotten her through Ed, the same as you'd gotten through Malcolm, but it was brittle around the edges. Unlike you, she hadn't made the choice to leave Ed; he'd been killed. And so had Sophia. 

Loss had made her hard, but it was fragile strength, the kind that could be cracked if it wasn’t taken care of. Killing Lizzy might just be enough to shatter it- shatter her- completely. 

So you shoved everything you were feeling into a corner of your mind, watching as Carol lead Lizzy out of the yard and into the clearing beyond it. The two of them paused, Carol hanging back as Lizzy wandered ahead, looking at a cluster of flowers in front of her. 

"They out there?" Tyreese said softly from behind you. 

"Mhhmm." 

"You don't have to watch, you know." 

You sighed and shifted Judy on your shoulder. She'd fallen asleep while the debate raged over what to do about Lizzy, and she was dead weight in your arms that you still couldn't bring yourself to lay down. "Yes, I do." 

Tyreese stood beside you as Carol's gun rose. Her face contorted in a grief so clear it speared through you and washed away all the walls you had built up, a damn cracking in your mind same as had in hers, and you have a strangled cry and spun away from the window. You leaned your forehead on Tyreese's massive shoulder, a shudder running through you as the single shot echoed outside. 

"Sis?" Daryl said after the doctor left. "Ya- ya hear all that?"

You shrugged, not looking at him. "Heard enough. He's going to start the discharge paperwork; I'll be fine in a few days; and I can't have kids." 

"I mean, he said-" 

"I got it, Dar. It's fine," you snapped, leaning back and closing your eyes. "I'm tired." 

"Yeah. Yeah, I bet." His hand was still wrapped around yours and he squeezed tightly. "Ya know, in history last week, Mr. Johnson was talkin' about the Trail of Tears, ya know. When they rounded up the Cherokee tribes to take 'em to the reservations?" 

You cracked an eye open to shoot him a look. What the fuck did that have to do with anything? "Ok? And?"

Daryl shrugged one shoulder, staring off into space. "That story about the roses, right? Like the ones on the nurses' station. Been thinkin' about it." 

"I have absolutely no idea what the hell you're talking about. I must have missed that class. Probably puking," you muttered. 

He snorted. "Yeah, ya been doin' that a lot. Anyway, the children of the tribe, they was all dyin' and goin' missing along the way, and the mothers- they was sad and shit." 

Well, duh, you thought snidely. Of course they were, if their children were dying. Where the fuck was he going with this? 

Daryl gestured vaguely. "The elders got together and prayed for a sign or something, to lift the mothers' spirits and bring 'em hope. And the next morning, all along the trail where the mothers' tears fell, Cherokee roses bloomed." 

You stared at him, still confused as hell and frankly, getting annoyed. "And?" 

"And, I dunno. I'm thinkin', maybe them roses on the desk, me hearin' that story- maybe it's a sign." 

"A sign of what?" you demanded. 

He looked sad and uncomfortable. "A sign that- that the doc's wrong and you'll still have kids, I guess. That everything'll be ok." 

"Shit, Darrie. Why the fuck do you think I care about some flower for mothers? I'm not a mom, and I'm not going to be a mom. Tests don’t lie, and the doctor sure was certain. I didn't want this baby to begin with. So what if I can't have others?" you snapped the words at him, harsh and cold, and he looked so sad you had to close your eyes. 

You turned away, pulling your hand from his and wondering why you couldn't even muster up a tear of your own. 

"Look alive, Dickhead," you called, slinging a glass down the bar with a flick of your wrist. 

Shane didn't bother looking up from his phone, but he held up a hand and the glass smacked right into it. You laughed as he lifted it and took a drink while typing with the other hand. Jason snorted and shook his head. 

"Ridiculous. Both of you. There's no one here, just walk it down the bar to him," Jason complained. 

You flashed him a grin. "More fun that way. Even more fun if he misses." 

"Yeah, it's fun 'till Ellie starts taking money from your check to pay for glasses, or that bar back she hired wants to do that too." 

"Spoilsport." You winked at Jason and he rolled his eyes, but you put the Jack bottle away and ambled down the bar. 

Jason was right, the place was dead. But it was early yet, and the only reason Shane was even there was because he'd been hanging at your place all day. You hopped up on the counter and leaned against the wall, one leg swinging. 

"Talk to me. I'm bored," you whined, poking at Shane's shoulder to get his attention. 

He batted your hand away and kept texting. "Shut up. Almost done." 

"Who could possibly be more important than me?" 

He sipped again and put his phone face down, rolling his eyes at you. "My date for Saturday, Slugger. Ok with you if I try to get laid?" 

You sighed. "Well, I guess someone should." 

"You two could just bone each other and solve everyone's problems," Jason put in as he headed into the kitchen. He ducked when you kicked out at him, winking at you while Shane snorted. 

"Whatcha say, Slugger? We going another round?" he asked, flashing you a shit eating grin. 

You rolled your eyes again. "Sure, baby. My place or yours?" 

"The bathrooms are empty!" Jason yelled, and you heard the kitchen staff laughing. 

"Would you just shut up?" you yelled back, but you grinned as well. 

Shane snorted. "You know, if you'd-" 

His phone started buzzing against the bar and he frowned at it, picking it up and frowning harder at the screen. "Shit. That's dispatch. I gotta take this, Ace." 

You waved him off and he answered with a so-professional 'Officer Walsh' that you bit your lip and made a mocking face at him. He stuck his tongue out at you, but the laughter in his eyes turned serious seconds later. 

"Of course. I'm in Atlanta right now, but I'm on my way. ETA two hours," he said briskly, glancing at his watch as he rose. "Yes, sir. Fast as I can." 

He hung up and tossed money on the bar while you frowned at him. "What's wrong?" 

"Gotta go, Slugger. Sorry. Little boy's gone missing and they're callin' everyone in." 

Shane's face was grim and you leaned across the counter and caught his hand. The kid cases always hurt him, and you'd had a drunken, rambling Shane curled around you on your couch and in your bed more than once after they found a body instead of a child. "You ok?" 

He shrugged, but kissed your cheek. "I'll be alright. Call you if I get a chance?" 

"Please? Or text me when you get home, at least. Stay safe, Dickhead," you called. 

He shoved the door open with his back and slid on shades as he sent you a strained smile. "You know I always do." 

Yeah, that was a lie, you thought, chewing on your thumbnail as you stared at the closing door. Shit. 

You picked up the Jack and Coke he’d barely touched and knocked it back yourself. 

No one spoke as you prepared to leave. Tyreese had dug the graves the night before, and you'd fashioned a couple more stick crosses. Carol had stayed inside with Judith, unable to handle it. 

You didn't blame her. Hell, you almost couldn't handle it yourself. 

But you did. 

You glanced at the other two, Carol's back to you as you strapped Judy into the backpack carrier you'd found in a closet. "Terminus?" 

Tyreese nodded. Carol turned when you finished securing Judith and gave you a slight, strained smile. 

"Terminus," she agreed. 

One foot in front of the other, you thought as you closed the front door behind you. Get Judith safe.


	26. Lie #26: “Nobody Punches My Best Friend And Gets Away With It, Right?” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence   
Threat of rape/non con (canon)  
Threat of rape/non con to a minor (canon)  
Suicidal thoughts

It was damn near dark when Tony whistled. Shane watched impassively as Joe walked over to see what he’d found while the rest of them scanned the clearing near the road. They’d been gaining on whoever had killed one of Joe’s boys over the last two days, and Shane had a feeling they were right on the ass of whoever it was. 

Shane was more interested in this Terminus place, and so was Daryl. They’d held a couple low conversations out of the others’ earshot about their plans, and they’d pretty much decided. They’d stick with these assholes until their path and Shane and Daryl’s didn’t work anymore, or until they crossed a line Shane and Daryl couldn’t tolerate.

Things had been quiet since Len got beat to death. Everyone but Joe basically avoided the two of them, and Shane was cool with it. Daryl didn’t seem to give two flying shits either, so there was that. 

Joe whistled and the group gathered around him. “Alright, boys, we got us some fresh sign! We’re gonna press on, real quiet like, and see if we can’t sneak up on ‘em. Let’s go.” 

Daryl jerked his head and Shane nodded, and both of them hung back as the group got going. “Let ‘em get hot on the trail, then slip off. Don’t want no trouble.” 

“For all Joe’s calm and reasonable and shit, he don’t seem like the type to take runnin’ well,” Shane agreed. “Sounds good. Wait for dark and strike out on our own.” 

“Yeah. Gonna use that bullet in your pocket?” Daryl asked. “Cause imma need help still. Till we get to Terminus.” 

Shane took his hand from his pocket and grunted. “Naw. Not gonna use it. Not till Terminus.” 

Daryl nodded. “Aight then.” 

"Today is a day of reckoning, sir! Restitution!" 

Shane rolled his eyes hard. Joe's voice carried to where he and Daryl hung back, ready to disappear into the darkness. Something had caught Dixon's attention, and Shane scanned the night watching his back and wishing Joe would just shut up already. 

"A balancing of the whole damn universe. Shit, and I was thinkin' of turning in for the night on New Year's Eve! Now who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh? Ten Mississippi!" 

"Are we leaving or what?" Shane hissed at Daryl, not wanting to hear Joe count down some asshole's death. 

Daryl grabbed his arm. "Shane." 

He turned, irritated, and caught a look at Dixon's face. Daryl seemed panicked, pale like he'd seen a damn ghost, and Shane- 

Holy fucking shit. No way. There was no goddamn way. 

"Joe!" Daryl snapped it while Shane was still trying to fucking process what he was seeing, interrupting Joe's countdown at eight. 

Everyone's eyes- Joe's boys and those of the two he had a gunpoint- cut to Daryl and Shane as Shane's feet finally started to work and he followed Dixon into the middle of the ring of assholes they'd been planning to ditch. 

Shane met Rick's eyes and saw his brother's flicker toward the broken-down truck, and Shane's blood ran cold as he glanced that way. Carl was inside, and one of Joe's assholes was looking at him with a knife in hand a predatory smile in place. 

"Hold up," Daryl said softly. 

"You're stopping me on eight, Daryl." 

Shane pried his eyes away from Carl's terrified ones to focus on saving Rick and Michonne first, since they had guns to their heads and Joe had that coolly affable tone of voice he'd gotten right before he ordered Len beaten to death. Shane hadn't liked these bastards, but he had a feeling he was about to like them even less. 

He and Daryl were outnumbered and out gunned here. What the fuck were they gonna do? 

"Just hold up," Daryl repeated, edging closer. Shane held his ground, wondering how fast he could pull his gun and drop Joe. 

Answer was pretty damn fast, but not fast enough to keep Rick and Michonne from taking bullets to the brain. 

"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothin' to talk about!" 

Shane snorted, meeting Rick’s eyes. Killed in the john? Shit, Shane should have known. "Course he is." 

"Shut up, Walsh," Daryl snapped, but Joe chuckled. 

"Thing about nowadays is, we got nothin' but time. Say your piece, Daryl. Shane. Anything that gets our silent military man talking is enough to spark my interest.”

Shane said nothing, focused on Rick and on the barrel of the gun against his best friend's temple. When this was over- if he survived it- Shane knew he had a mental breakdown of epic proportions heading his way. Rick was alive. For the second time in far too short a time span, Shane had thought his best friend was dead only to have Rick prove him wrong. And he'd brought Carl back from the dead with him this time, and Shane- 

Well, Shane couldn't dwell on it right now because they were in imminent danger of being dead for real, and he needed to deal with that before he freaked the fuck out entirely.

"These people," Daryl started, sounding like he had about as much idea what to do as Shane did, "you’re gonna let 'em go. These are good people."

"Now, I- I think Lou would disagree with you on that one." Joe's tone wasn't so friendly anymore, as he laid a hand dramatically on his chest. "I'll of course have to speak for him and all, cause your friend here strangled him in a bathroom."

"You want blood. I get it," Daryl said quietly. He dropped the crossbow to the ground at his feet. "Take it from me, man." 

"Crazy bastard, thought I was the suicidal one," Shane muttered, shifting to get some space. The stalemate was about to break, and he needed to be ready. 

"This man killed our friend. You say he's good people." Joe sounded so fucking disappointed. Shane tensed cause he had a feeling he knew where this was headed. "Now that- that is a lie. It's a lie." 

"Fuck," Shane muttered. Two of them closed on Daryl and started swinging. Daryl shot Shane a wild look as he ducked one, but he took the next in the gut. 

Shane wasn't sure what Dixon was trying to communicate, and it didn't matter much anyway, since the fat bastard pulled Carl from the truck. Shane's gun was in his hand and aimed before he thought. 

"Don't think you want to pull that trigger, Shane," Joe warned. "You can still scrape out of this one. Far as I can tell, you haven't lied to me."

"It was me. It was just me," Rick's voice had that same tone he'd gotten when the farm fell and he declared that it wasn't a democracy in their group anymore, and Shane's nerves fell away into cool calm. 

Then the asshole licked Carl's ear and chuckled, holding the knife to the kid's throat, and Shane's blood roared in his ears and filled his brain with hate and fury. 

"See, that's right! That's not some damn lie! We can settle this. We're reasonable men. First, we're gonna beat Daryl to death. Then we'll have the girl. Then the boy. Then I'm gonna shoot you, and we'll be square." Joe laughed and the bastard tossed Carl to the ground. 

Hell no.

"Rick!" It was the only warning Shane gave before he fired, popping a round into the bastard's shoulder as he started taking off his belt. 

Shane wasn't trying to kill him. Not yet, anyway. He was going to bleed first. 

The fat bastard fell backward and pain exploded in Shane's leg, but he didn't have time to think about that. He turned and dropped Tony with a headshot as he started to kick Daryl, but Shane missed the next shot entirely when his target dove into Dixon and bulled him into the side of the truck. The gun clicked when he squeezed the trigger again, so he tossed it aside and ran to Dixon’s rescue. 

Joe ran his mouth some more behind him, but Daryl shook off his opponent and shoved him toward Shane. Shane's knee caught his chin as he fell, and Daryl's booted foot drove into the bastard's head. 

With Dixon good now, Shane turned back and found Rick pulling a knife from Joe's guts, Michonne holding the fat asshole at gunpoint, and Carl looking fucking terrified, but not of the man who'd held him. Rick had blood all over him, and Shane's eyes widened. 

Joe's throat had been ripped out. 

"He's mine." Rick stalked toward the fat bastard, knife clenched in a bloody hand, and Shane watched in approval as Rick ripped him open, straight up the middle. 

"Uncle Shane!" 

Carl slammed into him and Shane staggered, almost going down before he caught the both. "Hey, kid. Hey," he whispered, holding onto a fistful of Carl's jacket. "Shit. Shit, Carl, I missed you." 

Carl shoved back as Rick took the fat bastard to the ground and kept stabbing, wet sucking sounds punctuated by Rick's grunts of effort making Shane wince. Carl's eyes were wide and his face pale, and he when he tried to turn and look, Shane wouldn't let him. 

Shane rubbed a hand over his face and tried to figure out just what the hell to do first. Michonne had taken the kid into the truck to get some rest, and the adrenaline was fading now, leaving sick fear churning in its wake. 

But they were alive. Rick, Carl, and Michonne were alive, and he and Daryl had found them. 

"What the fuck? What the actual fuck?" he whispered to himself. 

"Yeah," Daryl muttered. "That about sums it up. Hey, took ya long enough to come give me a hand, asshole." 

Shane snorted. "Figured you could handle two on one in a fistfight." 

"Shit," Daryl said lightly. "Aight, let's get these bodies out of the way, strip 'em of gear, and then- do somethin' about that." 

Shane followed Daryl's nod in Rick's direction and winced. His friend leaned against the hood of the truck, bloody to his elbows and fucking everywhere else, and Shane glanced at Joe's body again. "Ripped his throat out?" 

"With his teeth," Daryl agreed. "Some badass shit. I wouldn't've thought of that." 

"Carl," Shane said softly. "It was for Carl." 

"Yeah." Daryl smacked him on the arm. "Come on, let's get busy. Shit to do." 

"Yeah, yeah." He rolled his eyes and turned, taking a step toward Joe's body, and his leg promptly buckled. "Fuck!" 

Daryl crouched as Shane yanked the leg of his pants up and groaned, staring at the bleeding gash with more annoyance than anything else. 

"Dumbass, why didn't ya say somethin'?" Daryl shot at him, tossing the hair from his face and grabbing Shane's leg to take a closer look. "Looks like it's just a graze, but still. Gonna fuckin' bleed to death now instead of eatin' a bullet?" 

"Fuck you, Dixon. I didn't realize," he growled back. "And you know what? I've about had it with your comments. I'm here, aren't I? Only fuckin' reason is cause you're her brother, and she'd be pissed at me if I checked out and left you alone. So just shut the fuck up about it, why don't you?"

Daryl scoffed, ripping part of a shirt off the nearest body and pressing down on Shane's leg. "How you fuckin' not know ya been shot? Seriously, you're a dumbass." He sighed. "Sorry. I'll leave it be. Just wanna do right by her, which means keepin' your idiotic ass alive."

"Why?" Shane muttered, eyes on Daryl's hands as he wrapped a strip around the makeshift bandage. 

"Just in case we find her again. Or someone else ya care enough about to live for. Like Carl or Rick or-" Daryl didn't finish whatever he'd been about to say, sitting back instead and smirking at Shane. "She'd call ya Shanizzle over this one. Go get in the damn truck. I'll clean up and handle Rick." 

Ace was working already when he got to the address she'd texted him, and bit his lip and glared at the sling on his arm. She was gonna be pissed that he hadn't said anything for two days. 

Oh well, better face the music. Or in this case, the artist. He slid out of his Jeep and pulled his phone from his pocket, snapping a picture of her as she eyed the wall made vague gestures like she was already painting. 

He loved it when she did that, and most of the time she didn't even know she was. 

"Hey, Slugger," he called. 

"You're late," she said without turning, leaning close to the wall and running her fingers over it lightly, like she was checking the surface for something. 

He snorted. "Shit happens. Hey, I need you to not freak out, ok?" 

As expected, that had her turning with a frown and her eyes narrowed. They shot wide as soon as she saw the sling, and she was at his side in four long steps. "Oh my God, Dickhead, what-" 

"I'm fine, I swear," he cut her off, grabbing at her hand and squeezing it. Her fingers locked in his and she swallowed hard, tearing her eyes away from the sling and the visible bandage with obvious difficulty. "Rick did something stupid a couple days ago, and I had to bail his ass out of trouble. Took a knife to the shoulder, that's all." 

"That's all?" she snapped, yanking her hand from his to plant them on her hips and glare. Her hair was a red so dark it was almost black, and it flashed in the sunlight and surrounded her with a hazy orange glow. 

Shane figured it matched the fury in her eyes pretty well, and he smiled and shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "Yeah. Missed everything important, promise. Already went to the doctor and got my orders. It's just a flesh wound, Slugger." 

She glared harder, but he saw the humor dancing in her eyes and gave her his most disarming smile. She held it a beat before she cracked, rolling her eyes and grabbing his hand again. "Fine, Monty Python. You sure you're ok? They do blood tests, too? If it was a knife, you could-"

"Have picked up something, I know. Yeah, they drew blood and took all kinds of samples and shit. I'll be off the desk in a week, sling off on Monday. I'm fine. Promise," he told her. "Unless you wanna play doctor.” He winked at her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

"Any excuse to take your shirt off, huh Walsh? I'm thinking Mal wouldn't appreciate that too much. Not that he likes anything I do these days." She rolled her eyes and held up a hand, cutting him off before he could speak. "I know, I know, he's an asshole. It's not that bad, we just had a bit of a dust up this morning, is all." 

"He not want you hanging with me?" Shane asked, irritated as usual when she talked about that asshole. She'd already headed back to her wall and the bag of paint, and Shane handed her the black can while she frowned at the wall with her head tilted. 

"Don't worry about it. Tell me how you got yourself stabbed," she demanded, taking the can and making the first pass. 

Shane smiled slightly, leaning beside her and knowing he had about five minutes before she was so absorbed she wouldn't know what he was saying or that he was even there. "Yeah. We were on a call, see, a drunk and disorderly outside a bar. The assholes were going at each other and Rick waded right in, and one of them clocked him on the jaw. Now, that's about the time I rolled my sleeves up and went in too, 'cause they were too close for me to risk a shot and nobody punches my best friend and gets away with it, right?" 

"Right," she agreed absently, rising onto her toes. 

Shane smirked and grabbed a white can, knowing she'd want it next. He tossed it up and caught it as he kept talking, handing it over before she asked and moments before he lost her to the piece completely. 

Shane sat in the gloom Daryl had created by covering the windows of the truck, thinking about Rick's bloody face and hands and wondering why he wasn't out there helping his friend. Carl stirred in the backseat, his breathing hitching, and Shane's eyes cut to Michonne. 

She offered him a small smile, her hand resting on Carl's shoulder where he lay with his head in her lap. Shane sighed, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. Yeah, that was why. Because Daryl had fucking bullied him into it, citing Carl and trauma and shit, and Shane had found himself agreeing and cursing damn Dixons and their persuasive abilities as he went. 

"We should save it to drink," Rick's muffled voice came from outside. 

"You can't see yourself. He can." 

Thanks, Dixon, Shane thought, and once again made up his mind to go out there and check on his friend. 

"I didn't know what they were," Daryl continued. "We didn't. We were with Beth. We got out together, the three of us. We were with her for awhile." 

Shane froze. He didn't want to think about Beth, or about what had come before.

"Is she dead?" Rick asked. 

Shane's heart clenched, thinking about a black car they chased all night; about Beth flipping off the burning shack and Daryl snorting and joining in. He thought about her writing a thank you note and himself being an asshole about it, and about her yelling at him and Daryl when they’d started throwing punches.

"She's just gone. My sis- Ace is- Ace is dead. We're pretty sure. Shane's convinced anyway, and well... most time I am too." 

Shane's hand locked into a fist against the back of the bench seat, and he reached automatically for the bullet in his pocket. Gentle fingers, cool and firm, closed over his fist and his eyes shot open. 

"Fuck. How- how do you know?" Rick asked, voice broken. 

"Found her shirt. Soaked in blood. With walkers, eatin'- eatin' what used to be humans. Couldn't tell who, there wasn't enough left," Daryl said softly. 

Shane met Michonne's horrified, sympathy-filled look, lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and closed his eyes again. Daryl's voice droned on outside, but Shane was done. He was so done. 

Michonne's hand stayed on his when his shoulders started to shake and the tears slid down his face.


	27. Lie #27: “We’re Not Talkin’ About It. About Her.” - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence

"I don't like it, brother." 

Rick grunted, his eyes on the buildings beyond the chainlink fence. There'd been hardly any movement since they'd made it to Terminus a few hours ago, spreading out among the trees to scope the place out. "That's why we're watching. That's why we buried the bag." 

"Yeah, well. I still don't like it," Shane muttered. He scanned the buildings with the scope from one of Joe's rifles. "Don't know why, but it feels wrong." 

"Yeah. But if it's not…" Rick trailed off and sighed. "Shane." 

"No." 

"Shane-" 

"I said no, Rick," he snapped. "We're not talkin' about it. About her. Either of them." 

"I think you need to," Rick disagreed calmly. 

Shane pulled the scope from his eye and glared at his best friend. "Why? They're dead, Rick. All I've got left of- of my Slugger is this damn shirt, and Judy-" He scoffed, shaking his head and shoving a hand through his hair. "I just- I don't get it, man. How the hell do you keep comin' back? Don't- I'm glad. I'm- I'm so glad to see you, brother." 

"But it's the second time I've come back from the dead and you want to know why I am but she's not. Either of them," Rick said quietly. 

Shane sighed and dashed tears from his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, that. I miss the shit out of her, Rick. Out of them both." 

"It's- you'll never get over it. Not really," Rick said, setting one hand on Shane's shoulder and waiting until Shane met his eyes. "It doesn't go away. But it does get easier." 

Shane nodded, thinking about a single bullet still in his pocket, and turned back toward Terminus. "Yeah. Thanks. So, we gonna stare all day, or are we gonna make a move here?" 

"We're going in," Rick told the other three when they'd gathered back at the meeting point. "We're gonna make it quick and quiet, and see what we see when we get inside. Stick close, ok?" 

Shane watched the trees and wondered why the hell there weren't any guards posted in the woods. Or on the rooftops, or frankly, anywhere that they could see. Something was off about the place, but damn it, Rick was right. It was their best chance. 

They went over the fence, Rick and Shane first with Daryl watching the rear. Shane covered Rick's back like he had a thousand times before, leading the way into the back door of a warehouse. Voices filtered down the hallway, repetitious and just this side of comprehensible at first, and Shane watched for rick's cues as they cleared a side passage and checked locked doors. 

When Rick help up a closed fist, Shane stopped dead and waited. The voice was clear now, a woman's calm, professional tone repeating a message. 

"Terminus. Those who arrive survive. Follow the tracks to the point where the lines intersect. There are maps at the crossings to guide you on your journey. Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Terminus-"

Rick glanced back at Shane and jerked his chin forward. Shane eased an eye around the corner for a quick scan, taking in the massive room before ducking back into the hallway and huddling up with everyone. 

"See the maps?" he whispered to Rick. 

Rick nodded. "Yeah. And the radio. This is the command center." 

"How many?" Daryl asked. 

Shane shrugged. "Counted five. Probably more." 

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail and nodded. Michonne looked thoughtful and Carl just looked damn determined. Shane shrugged one shoulder when Rick met his eyes again. 

"Your play, brother." 

"Hello," Rick called. 

Shane followed him into the warehouse floor, gun in hand but lowered, and wondered just why the hell he'd said it was Rick's play. Cause this one sure felt like shit. 

All activity in what Shane dubbed the recruitment hub stopped, heads whipping around to stare at them as they stepped into the light. One man was clearly the boss, at a table in the middle of the room with people swarming around him. He set the map in his hands down with a sigh, glancing at his people and making a calming gesture. 

"Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch." He rounded the table and strolled toward Rick, eyes sweeping the group. "You here to rob us?" 

"No," Rick answered. "We wanted to see you before you saw us." 

The head asshole nodded once and looked around again. "Makes sense. Usually we do this where the tracks meet. Welcome to Terminus." He gestured with both hands, voice slipping into a practiced rhythm that had Shane wanting to roll his eyes. "I'm Gareth. Looks like you've been on the road for a good bit." 

"We have." Rick's flat tone told Shane his partner wasn't ready to trust these assholes just yet, and Shane thought that was a pretty damn good idea. He left the leader to Rick and started scoping out the others in the room while Rick introduced them. 

They were painting signs. The voice they'd been hearing had been broadcasting via the radio in front of her. It looked like equipment that had been in the depot when the world ended. Shane counted six heads, including the lead asshole, and none of them looked particularly concerned at their appearance. More cautious and, in the case of Gareth, annoyed. 

"You're nervous, I get it. We were all the same way," Gareth said when silence fell after Rick delivered their names. "We came here for sanctuary. That what you're here for?" 

Rick didn't blink. "Yes." 

"Good! You found it. Hey, Alex!" 

Shane's hand tightened on his gun as another asshole came forward, smile in place like he was delighted to be called on by the teacher. 

"This isn't as pretty as the front," Gareth continued. "We've got nothing to hide, but the welcome wagon is a whole lot nicer. Alex will take you, ask you a few questions. Uh, but first-" 

Shane tensed at the shift in tone, wondering where this was headed. 

"-We need to see everyone's weapons. If you could just lay them down in front of you?" 

Shane glanced at Rick and lifted an eyebrow. After a pause, Rick gestured with his gun and a nod, and Shane sighed. This is a real bad idea, brother, he thought Rick's way, but Rick was already laying down the Python. 

Shane shoved his hand through his hair and dropped his Glock to the floor reluctantly. Guess they were all in now. 

Picnic tables with umbrellas littered the patio space, as did flower beds and laundry lines and a massive grill tended by an older woman. It looked so much like the prison that Shane had to take a deep breath, wrapping his fingers around the bullet in his pocket. 

He couldn't believe they'd gotten their weapons back, but gift horses and all that shit, right? Now at least when things went sideways- cause they would, Shane was certain of that shit- he'd at least have a gun and a knife. 

The others were talking to the woman manning the grill, but something was bothering Shane about the courtyard. He kept scanning, trying to figure it out, but- 

Rick knocked the plate out of Alex's hand, grabbing at something in his pocket. Shane whipped his gun out and shoved Carl between him and Dixon, covering the people in the courtyard and using himself and Daryl to shield the kid. He frowned at one woman, wrapped in a poncho that looked damn familiar and holding a gun ready in her hands now. 

"Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick's voice was a snarl behind him and Shane felt something cold trickle down his spine. 

The poncho had been Daryl's, in the prison. There was only one watch that would set Rick off like that- Hershel's watch, that he gave to Glenn all the way back on the farm. Shane's eyes raked the courtyard again, his heart pounding in disbelief. There was no way. No way more of their people were alive, right? And had made their way here? 

But if Glenn's watch was in someone else's hands, Glenn was dead now. There was no other way, Shane knew. Glenn would never have given it up.

That bastard there was wearing riot gear, he realized. Prison riot gear. Carl stepped out from between him and Daryl, gun up and trained beside Shane, and he grabbed for the kid and tried to pull him back. Carl shook his hand off and kept his gun rock steady, and Shane had to give in. There were too many of these guys for them to take, and Carl was a badass these days. 

"Sniper on the roof," he called to Rick. 

"How good's his aim, huh?" Rick asked his prisoner. "Where'd you get the watch?" 

"I have this! Don't do anything! You put it down!" Alex yelled to the sniper Shane had spotted. The man lowered his gun slowly and Alex continued. "You wanna listen to me. There's a lot of us." 

"Where. Did you get. The watch?" 

Hurry it up, Rick, Shane thought. The standoff couldn’t last, and the longer they stood here exposed, the more time these assholes had to get their people in place. He and Rick were already on the losing side, exposed and in someone else's unfamiliar territory. "Rick?" he called. 

"Got it off a dead one!" Alex stammered. "I didn't think he'd need it!" 

Despair flooded through Shane, twisting like a knife. Glenn. Goddamn it. 

"What about the riot gear? The poncho?" Rick snapped. "The backpack?" 

Shit, Shane had missed the backpack. He shifted when Gareth appeared, Glock aimed right between that lying bastard's eyes. Something wasn't right, and Shane didn't trust this guy one bit. 

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop. Found the poncho on a clothesline," Gareth said easily. 

"Gareth, we can wait-" Alex started to speak, but Gareth cut him off with an order to shut up. 

"You talk to me," Rick commanded, that stubborn bastard voice Shane had missed so damn much almost making him smile. 

"What's there left to say?" Gareth folded his hands, looking calmly past Shane toward Rick. "You don't trust us anymore." 

"Never trusted you," Shane snapped. "Where are our people?" 

Gareth ignored him and held up a hand, palm up. Shane wasn't an idiot. He knew a hand signal when he saw one, and knew Rick would too. He adjusted his grip on his gun, ready to grab Carl and haul ass as soon as he knew which direction the trap was going to spring- cause it was coming. 

"Rick, what do you want?" Gareth asked. 

"Where are our people?" Rick repeated. Shane saw the flicker in Gareth's eyes as he sighed. 

"You didn't answer the question." Gareth's fist clenched and Shane exploded into movement.

It didn't take long to figure out they were being herded. Shane snarled when bullets tore up the concrete at his feet yet again, ducking back behind a corner and pulling Carl with him. The other three huddled up and Shane shot Rick a look. 

"Trapped, man. Shooting at our feet." 

"Rats in a fuckin' maze," Daryl agreed. "Comin' up behind us. Gottta move." 

"I got it," Shane snapped as Rick rubbed at his forehead, clearly working through any and everything he could come up with to get them out of this. Trouble was, they were fresh out of options. 

Good options, anyway. Shane shoved off the wall and rushed the corner with a primal yell, unable to believe this shit. 

Here they were, at the fucking promised sanctuary for all, and these bastards were trying to herd them somewhere. Glenn had made it, at least to here, and he'd been sick and in C block when the prison fell. If he'd made it this far, who knew who else might have?

But not Judith. And not his Slugger. Of course not them, he thought bitterly as bullets tore up the ground at his feet. 

Shane kept running, straight into them, until- 

There. The sniper poked his head up a little too far, trying to keep his gunfire at Shane's feet and not ripping through Shane's body, and Shane dropped him with one bullet. "Come on!" 

Freedom from the maze didn't last long, and Shane cussed up a blue streak under his breath as they tried doors and found them always locked. 

"What the hell was that?" Daryl demanded when they crashed into a room filled with candles and shit painted on the walls and the floor. 

Shane shrugged, eyes narrowed as he took it all in: "Never Forget. We First. Always" on the wall, names on the floor, and- "Rick, door," he called, starting toward it.

He wasn't even surprised when it slammed shut in his face. He was pissed, but not surprised.

"This way!" Daryl yelled. 

Shane reversed direction and brought up the rear, taking one more look at the candle-filled room and wondering just what the hell they'd landed themselves in this time as he ducked through the door. 

The fence was lined with gunmen. Snipers covered them from the roof. Shane counted three that he could see, and then that fucker Gareth stepped into view. 

"Drop your weapons! Now!" Gareth yelled. 

Shane sighed and glanced at Rick. "No way out, brother."

"Yeah," Rick said softly. "I know." 

Shane dropped the Glock and pulled out his knife. Clatters came from all around as the rest of them did the same.

"Ringleader! Go to your left," Gareth called. "Train car. Go." 

Shane and Rick both looked at the train car and then back at Carl. Rick didn't move. 

Gareth heaved an audible sigh. "You do what we say, the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies, and you end up in there anyway."

Rick started walking. 

"Now the archer," Gareth instructed, and Daryl went. "And the samurai." 

Michonne stepped slowly to join them, and Shane knew it was coming. He stared at Gareth as he waited, hoping he got a chance to kill the smug bastard someday. 

A small smile played on Gareth's lips as he looked back at Shane. "You got one of mine, I'll give you that. Didn't expect you to rush my sniper's fire. Must have some kind of death wish. Or maybe you're just too damn heroic for your own good. Don't get the boy killed. You go on now, hero." 

Blood rushed in Shane's ears, and he twitched for the gun at his feet before he could think. Carl's eyes went wide in his pale face, and Shane stopped the motion as abruptly as it began, turning it into a staggering step to the side. 

Gareth laughed. "Good choice, hero. Good choice. Stand at the door! Ringleader, Archer, Samurai, Hero- in that order."

Shane stared, only half-seeing, at Carl alone in the courtyard, weapons trained on him from different angles. Gareth, he promised fiercely, would learn soon enough that Shane wasn’t a fucking hero. He was a monster, and he was coming for Gareth just as soon as Carl was safe. 

"My son!" Rick yelled. 

There was a long pause, filled with the echo of Ace playfully calling him 'hero', and Shane took a slow, deep breath and tried to banish her voice from his mind. 

"Go, kid," Gareth said finally, and Carl started toward them. "Ringleader, open the door and go in." 

"I'll go in with him!" Rick yelled back. Shane kept his eyes on Carl, knowing full well there was nothing they could do. This was Gareth's show, as long as those guns were pointed Carl's way. 

He wondered if there was a way to change that, but he suspected it wouldn't matter what Shane did or how much of a distraction he caused. Gareth would shoot Carl first, damn it. 

"Don't make us kill him now!" 

Rick opened the door and went in. 

The door slammed shut behind Carl, plunging the car into darkness. Rick reached for Carl and for Shane at the same time, and Shane ducked Rick's hand, closing his eyes and leaning against the car wall as he tried to get it together. 

Something moved at the other end of the car and Shane snapped back upright, turning to stare as a figure came out of the darkness. 

"Rick?" 

Shane turned away, swallowing hard and pressing a hand to his eyes when Glenn appeared. 

"You're here. You're all here," Rick said slowly. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out." 

"Find out what?" Merle's dry, half amused voice had Shane sucking in a hard breath. 

Of course Merle was alive. Every damn Dixon except his, and he should have been happy. He knew that. He was happy. Merle and Glenn and Maggie and Sasha and Bob, he saw when he opened his eyes again. All alive and well, and looking no worse than Shane and his group. 

But no Ace. 

Several assholes he didn't recognize, but not his Slugger. Goddamn it all. 

"They're screwing with the wrong people," Rick declared, his stubborn bastard expression fixed when he met Shane's eyes.


	28. Lie #28: "He Definitely Had No Business Being In Her Bed" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence

"Glenn and I, we got out together, see. Good thing we'd had us some bonding experiences down there in isolation while we was all practicing dyin', cause we wouldn't'a made it very far if we weren't workin' together. Leanin' on each other and hackin' up a couple a lungs between us, and then the damn- damn bridge exploded," Merle said, gesturing with his one hand. He clapped the girl with the ponytails on the back and she smiled at him slightly, but her eyes were worried as she watched Rick. "Tara here? Tara saved our lives." 

"I'm grateful," Rick said solemnly, and Shane had a feeling he was missing something. 

Tara swallowed hard. "I figure I should be honest. I was with the Governor. He- when we found him, he was going by Brian. My family took him in. We helped him, and he helped us. Then Dad died. Our building that we were hiding in got overrun. My sister, my niece, and I- we followed Brian. I didn't know he was going to- I'm sorry." 

Merle squeezed her shoulder and glared over at Shane and Rick like he was expecting them to kill her right there. Shane raised an eyebrow and shrugged a shoulder. "You're fine by me, honey. Rick too." 

Tara's smile grew a little stronger at that. "We got out, but then Glenn passed out on me, and Merle wasn't much better. Next thing I know, these three come roaring up. I'd promised Glenn I'd help him find Maggie, and Merle was looking for his brother and-" 

Merle shifted and sniffed, and Tara shot him an apologetic glance. 

"This fellow here with the fantastic hair can fix the world. I have a duty to get him to Washington." The redhead was ex-military, named Abraham. He, Rosita, and Eugene sat together, Abraham clearly in charge and Eugene the mullet-wearing scientist Abraham was talking about. "We weren't exactly up for trying to find anyone, but- Tara and Glenn and our one-handed bastard here, they insisted.” 

Maggie smiled and patted his shoulder. "That's right. I got out with Sasha and Bob. I was lookin' for Glenn, and when we found the signs, I started leaving him messages. It worked." 

Glenn pressed a kiss to Maggie's hair and Shane looked away, swallowing hard. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for them. God knew he was. They deserved the world and each other. 

He slipped his hand into his pocket and clenched the bullet in his fist as he rose and paced restlessly to a gap in the train car's side. He looked out, scanning for Gareth and his jackasses. "How'd you end up in here?" 

"They seemed nice enough when we arrived, but I was ready to go," Abraham said. "We just got here, but damn. It was time to go. When I told them about DC, a wink and a nod from the head asshole in charge, they pulled their guns and it was right back to our regularly scheduled shitstorm." 

Shane grunted. "Sounds right. Rick." 

Rick rose and joined him, leaving the others to keep playing catch up. Shane tuned them out, especially Daryl and Merle's low, rough voices, and kept staring out the gap. Rick leaned against the car and looked too, waiting for Shane to speak. 

"Gotta get out of here, man." 

Rick scoffed and glanced at him from the corner of his eye, hooking a thumb over his gun belt. "I know." 

"So what's our play?" Shane demanded impatiently. "Just sitting around trading war stories ain't helping." 

"We're catching up. It's important. We lost each other, and now we've found each other again." 

Shane shoved his hand through his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Look, we need weapons." 

"I'm open to suggestions on that, brother." Rick's tone said reasonable, maybe too reasonable, and Shane shot him a glare. The tightness to his eyes, the set to Rick's shoulders and tilt of his head that told Shane he was irritated. 

Shane didn't care. He gestured vaguely. "We need to do an inventory. See what all we got. We know how to make homemade shit, and if you think the Dixon boys haven't got something we can use on them somewhere, you're not payin' attention." 

"Brother, we need to talk about it," Rick said slowly, reaching for Shane's shoulder. 

Shane jerked away from Rick's touch and glared. "No, man, we don't. I'm as good as I'm gonna be locked in this damn train by a bunch of assholes. I'm gonna kill Gareth nice and slow when we get out of here." 

He turned before Rick could say anything else and found Daryl watching him. Shane jerked his eyes away from cautious, worried Dixon blues and whistled. "Ok, people. Enough chatter. Most of us are old friends, and the new friends'll do just fine. We can worry about fixing the fuckin' world later. Everybody empty your pockets. Let's see what we've got to take these sons of bitches down." 

"Alright. Got four of them pricks comin' our way," Daryl said.

Shane snatched up his makeshift knife- a hunk of wood he'd pried off the train car and wrapped a strip of Ace's shirt around to make a handle- and headed to Carl's side. He nodded at Rick as the group took up positions, weapons in hand and ready to fight. 

"Y'all know what to do," Rick told them grimly. "Go for their eyes first. Then their throats." 

"Put your backs to the walls at either end of the car now!" 

Shane looked up in confusion along with everyone else when the roof opened instead of the door. The canister dropped through and Shane lunged for Carl, shoving the kid aside and covering him even as he yelled. "Grenade!" 

"Move!" Abraham called at the same time, right before the world erupted into chaos. 

It wasn't a grenade, not really, but flash-bangs in close quarters packed a disorienting punch. Smoke and light flooded the car, and he pulled Ace's shirt over his face as he backed Carl into the corner and covered him, searching for the enemies Shane knew were in there. 

He'd heard the door open, heard the hiss of gas masks over the coughing of his friends, but he never got a shot at anyone before the doors closed again. 

Shane paced, glaring out through the cracks and muttering under his breath. They'd taken Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and Bob. Maggie's face had been pale and pinched when the smoke cleared and Glenn was gone, and Merle had kicked the train wall and screamed. 

Carl did nothing except set a hand on Shane's shoulder and squeeze, a move so like his father's that Shane's throat had closed right there. 

He was so tired of this. He was exhausted, soul-deep, from all of it- the running, the fighting, the endless wash of fear and adrenaline as they looked for those they loved. The inevitable heartache and black despair when someone was gone. He couldn't fucking take it any more. 

He should have eaten the goddamn bullet in his pocket when he found Ace's shirt. 

"They'll be aight. My baby brother's a tough bastard, and so is your Rick Grimes," Merle said. "Just keep ya chin up." 

Shane whirled, temper snarling and snapping like it had when he'd taken a swing at Daryl. "That what you think? Huh? Your sister was the toughest person I've ever met, and she's dead, asshole. So how about you take your platitudes and shove them up your ass, or find me a way out of here." 

Merle's eyes narrowed and he stared when Shane got up in his face. "Careful, Officer Walsh. My sis loved the shit outta ya, but that don't mean I ain't gonna put ya on your ass you keep talkin' like that. How's about ya take a breath and go back to starin' out the window. Think before ya open ya damn mouth again. That's the kid's dad ya talkin' about." 

Temper drained away as suddenly as it had come, and shame replaced it. Shane shoved a hand through his hair and stepped back from Merle, sucking in a hard breath before meeting the oldest Dixon's eyes. "Sorry." 

"Ain't nothin'. All on the damn edge. Come on, how's about we figure a way outta this joint?" Merle answered calmly, jerking his shoulder and nodding toward the door. "Gotta be a way to pry that bitch open." 

"Merle's right, Uncle Shane," Carl said firmly. 

Shane glanced at him and mustered up a half grin for the kid, his heart hurting at the serious look in his nephew's eyes. "Yeah? What's the lump right about, little man?" 

Carl smiled at his nickname and the guilt eased. "My dad's in there. They'll be fine." 

His head was throbbing and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet, much less considered moving. Shane wanted to groan, but that didn't seem like a great idea right then either. He settled for pressing his face into the pillow he only half lay on and drawing in a deep, slow breath. Maybe his stomach would stop churning and-

His pillow sure didn't smell like that. 

He shifted- sitting up wasn't an option just yet- and cracked open one eye cautiously. Thank God for blackout curtains, he thought. It was gloomy enough that he could open both eyes without wanting to die. 

The sheet- what little of it was covering him- slid further away when the woman beside him rolled over, and Shane lay flat on his back and stared at a vaguely familiar ceiling.

He'd killed a man on the job the day before. It'd been Rick or the perp, and Shane chose Rick. Every time. It'd been a righteous shoot, and he'd be off desk duty in two weeks. Hell, he was considering just using some vacation time while they did the required inquiry. And he'd see the shrink. 

But still. He'd been a mess the night before, and he'd taken one step into his empty, dark kitchen and gotten right back in his Jeep instead. He'd shown up at Ace's door at three in the damn morning, leered at her when she answered it in her underwear, and- 

And gotten shitfaced and handsy, he thought, closing his eyes again with a grimace. And somehow ended up in bed with her. 

That was the part he really wished he could remember clearly, because they'd decided to be friends, and he liked her, damn it. He didn't want to fuck up the friendship by treating her like a middle of the night booty call. Shit, the thought had his stomach rolling with a fresh wave of nausea. That wasn't why he'd come, even if he'd never have been able to say what it was that had drawn him here. He'd been upset, and she'd let him in and let him hold her.

She shouldn't have even answered the damn door. He definitely had no business being in her bed. 

He suddenly realized he was wearing clothes still and let out a breath of relief. Good. Memory trickled in faintly, just a flash of cool fingers in his and Ace's shampoo filling his nose, her soft voice telling him it was ok. 

"Just sleep, Dickhead. Everything will look better in the morning." 

He leaned on one elbow and smiled. Her hair was a tangled plum-colored mess, strewn across the pillow and her face. He brushed a strand back from where it had to have been tickling her nose, and her forehead wrinkled. He curled up facing her with a sigh and closed his eyes, thinking maybe a couple more hours would get rid of the worst of the hangover. 

Slugger shifted, her toes worming their way under his knee, and Shane smiled. Yeah, she'd been right. It was already looking better this morning. 

An explosion rattled the car, sending most of them off balance. Shane caught Carl when the kid fell into his side, standing him back upright before running an eye over the rest of their group. 

"Everyone ok?" 

"Just fuckin' peachy. What the hell was that?" Abraham demanded, fists clenched and looking ready to attack the train wall with his bare hands. 

Shane could relate, but he didn't have the answer to that question at the moment, for all that he wanted it. He peered out the gap in the wall, searching for something, anything they'd missed. 

"Someone hit 'em," Michonne said. 

"Maybe our people got free-" Sasha started, but cut off when Eugene shoved his way to beside Shane. Shane eyed the scientist curiously. Mr. Smarty-pants had been quiet so far, and it was obvious from Abraham and Rosita's protective behavior that he couldn't take care of himself. 

But he was definitely smart, Shane thought, eyes narrowing on the flash-bang canister in Eugene's hand. Smart enough that Shane crouched when he did and looked over his shoulder. "What are you doin'?" 

"I might be able to use this shell to compromise the door. From the sound of things, there may not be anybody left to open it," he answered. 

Shane grunted in agreement and interest, trying to figure out how exactly he was planning on doing that. Because that would be a useful trick. 

"Hey," Carl said over the others beginning to argue behind him. "My dad's gonna be back. They all are." 

"They are," Maggie agreed as Shane looked over his shoulder. She held Glenn's watch in her hands, and had the kind of calm control Shane himself had never been able to feel when Ace was in danger. 

How the fuck did she do that? He wondered while she informed everyone they needed to be ready to fight their way out. How was she not screaming and breaking her knuckles on whatever was closest like Shane himself would do- and had done before- in her shoes? 

He wished he'd have the chance to panic over his Slugger again, and for a moment, as grief twisted in his stomach and gnawed at his bones, he hated her for the confident conviction in her voice. Then she looked down at the watch in her hands and drew in a shaky breath no one was supposed to see as she crouched and started sawing a chunk lose from the car wall. 

Shane turned away as movement outside the car caught his attention, and satisfaction had him shaking his head with a grim twist of his lips. Michonne had joined him, and she met his eyes now with the faintest of smiles. 

Walkers were flooding Terminus. 

Gunfire echoed, mixing with the snarls and growls of the dead outside, and Shane shoved a hand through his hair and tried to force away memories of a tank at the prison gates, Rick walking into a field, Ace kissing him goodbye and disappearing into the smoke. He wasn't doing to well, and the need to have an enemy he could take down- preferably with his bare hands- had him practically shaking with rage in the gloom. 

"How's that door comin'?" he snapped at Eugene, who gave him an annoyed look. 

"Go faster if you get off my ass." 

Shane snarled and started to respond, but Sasha interrupted him. Probably for the best, Shane decided as he turned back to staring through the gap at the walkers wandering by. 

"What's the cure, Eugene?" she asked. 

Activity in the car stopped, but Shane ignored it. To be honest, he didn't fucking care. Apparently, however, everyone wanted to know, and they pressed for details until Eugene sighed and stopped working on the empty flash-bag canister he was trying to use on the doors. 

"I was part of a ten person team with the human genome project that weaponized diseases to fight weaponized diseases. Pathogenic microorganisms with pathogenic microorganisms. Fire with fire." Eugene rose and Shane shifted to watch him from the corner of his eye as he continued. "Interdepartmental drinks were had, relationships made, information shared. I am keenly aware of all the details behind failsafe delivery systems to kill every living person on this planet. I believe with a little tweaking on the terminals in DC, we can flip the script. Take out every last dead one of 'em. Fire with fire. All things being equal, it does sound pretty badass." 

Silence greeted that announcement until Shane scoffed. "Look, man, I don't care if the cure is your fresh blood on Washington's grave on a full moon night in October. We get out of this, I'll haul your ass there. Ain't like I got anything better to do these days. But first, we gotta get outta here. Now, can you blow that damn door or not?" 

Before Eugene could respond, the door slid open and Rick was standing there, screaming for them all to fight their way to the fence and over. 

Shane muttered about Rick fucking Grimes doing the impossible as he stabbed walkers with his wood-chunk knife until Rick tossed him a gun. That worked better. 

He crouched in the bushes and swatted yet another Georgian mosquito the size of a sparrow off his arm. "Seriously, man, hurry it up," he muttered, squinting out at the empty view. 

The sun was starting to paint colors across the sky, and if Rick didn't get on with this Shane and his camera weren't gonna be any good to him. Light was kind of a crucial element to taking pictures, after all, and if Shane spent all this time getting eaten alive, then Rick better show up so he could do his job. 

"The shit I do for you, brother," he mumbled and swiped sweat off his forehead. "I cancelled a date for this." 

It hadn't been a serious date, and Shane didn't think he was going to get very far with her anyway, but still. It was the principle of the thing. 

Rick's car pulled up and Shane lifted the camera, zooming in and starting to snap as Rick took a deep breath and huffed it out. He adjusted his button up as he rounded the car to open the passenger door for Lori, and Shane took a picture of Rick staring blankly at the ground behind her back while he closed the door again. Shane didn't really know what he was doing here, what with his only photography experience being that course in basic on long-range surveillance photos, but that hadn't mattered to Rick when he'd shown up in Shane's house with panicked eyes and this absurd request. 

Rick held Lori's hand and Shane kept snapping as they wandered to the water, determined to discharge his best friend duty as well as could despite his obvious limitations. Rick talked to her for a minute, one hand in hers and the other stuffed into his pocket, looking nervous as fuck. Lori was smiling up at him, and she when she laughed at something Rick said Shane got that picture, and the one of Rick's adoring smile seconds after, too. 

The Rick went to one knee, not looking nervous anymore as he opened the little jewelry box and held it up, his eyes on Lori's and shining. Lori covered her mouth with one hand, clearly in shock, and started nodding vigorously before Rick's lips had stopped moving. 

Shane got that picture, and the one of Rick sliding the ring on her finger, and the one of her with her legs wrapped around his waist and her mouth busy on Rick's. Then he stood up, camera still to his eye, and let out a piercing whistle. 

The shot he took of Rick and Lori looking at him and laughing, faces close together and Rick looking dazed, was still framed in their living room, as far as Shane knew.

"Here," Daryl said, pointing between two trees. 

Shane stalked forward and found the collapsible shovel Rick had hidden. He tossed dirt with hard, angry motions as he squinted toward the column of smoke rising from Terminus. "Ok, people. When we get the guns, we spread out along the fence. Take anybody breathing down." 

"Why?" Glenn asked slowly. "We made it out." 

Shane snorted and hauled up the bag. Rick crouched beside him, unzipping it with a relieved expression. Everything was still there, which was good since they were missing all of the gear they'd taken in with them. "Because they're drawing people here and butchering them. They don't get to live." 

"The place is overrun. If anyone else follows the signs, they won't even go in. It's over. We made it out," Glenn argued. 

Shane passed a rifle to Merle, who hefted it and shrugged like he didn't give a shit one way or another. Rick handed more to Abraham and Rosita while Shane tossed the compound bow in Carl's direction. 

"I don't give a shit, man. I'm fuckin' sick of assholes who think just cause the goddamn world ended they can do whatever they want. That snake Gareth ain't dead. I left a man who needed killing alive once, and it came back to bite us in the ass. I ain't gonna-" 

Rick grabbed his shoulder, cutting him off mid-rant as he stared beyond Shane to something, eyes wide and face pale. "Shane."


	29. Lie #29: “I Could Have Taken Them!” - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
Canon typical violence  
Past child abuse

"We're close," Carol said quietly. 

You nodded, shoving a hand through your hair as you studied the sign and tried to figure out how to tell them what you'd decided. "I'm not- We'll check it out. Make sure it's legit. But once we know, I'm going back." 

You met Tyreese's eye first and then Carol's, reaching out to run a hand over Judy's head. Carol shifted her in her arms and nodded. 

"You have to know," she agreed. "I'll go with you." 

"Thanks," you whispered. You turned to Tyreese. "You'll take care of her while I'm gone, right? It won't be forever."

Tyreese nodded, and you saw the lingering horror and sadness in his eyes. Hell, it was in all of you, you knew. None of you had spoken much since- 

Something moved in the woods and your hand dropped to your knife. A walker came staggering onto the tracks, a handcuff dangling from one wrist, and you swallowed hard. You weren’t thinking about Shane in your shower, lifting his eyebrows suggestively when you asked where his handcuff key was. You weren’t.

Tyreese leaned over and took Judy from Carol's arms. "I can't. Not yet," he admitted. 

You sighed and headed for it. You heard Carol's murmured response but you weren’t sticking around for a conversation. There was work to be done. 

Half of its face hung in bloody tatters, and you grimaced as you took it down. Of course, as you did, the ankle you'd messed up twinged and you lost your balance, falling with the thing. Oh well, you thought with disgust, shoving back up and rotating your ankle to test it. At least it was dead. 

For a moment, as you pulled your knife from its skull, it looked like Mika. You flinched, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Putting that little girl down had been the hardest thing you'd ever done, but neither Carol or Tyreese had been in any state to handle it. Someone had to; you couldn’t just let her turn.

So you’d done it, though your hands shook and you tried not to see what you were doing.

You opened your eyes and sighed when you saw the herd coming out of the trees. Scrambling to your feet, you gestured wildly toward the woods with your bloody knife and made shooing motions at Carol and Tyreese. 

Carol glanced from you to the trees and snatched up Judith's diaper bag, leading the way off the tracks to crouch behind a nearby hillock. You reached out a hand to Judy and her little fingers curled around yours, but she didn't make a sound. You glanced at Carol and she shook her head, shoving upward to lead the way further, cause it was a damn big herd filtering onto the tracks now. They'd notice you for sure, even with Judy staying quiet. 

Gunfire echoed from the direction of Terminus, and the three of you froze. The walkers turned and stumbled their way up the tracks. 

You headed east to another track after a hurried conference with the others. The gunfire meant Terminus was under attack or was attacking someone, and for a minute you agreed with Tyreese. Did you even want to know which it was? 

Then Judith had picked her head up and looked at you, sucking on her thumb in Tyreese's arms, and yeah. You needed to know. 

"Ten minute count. You screw up, you're on your own, Martin." 

The voice came from a radio, and you glanced at the others and lifted an eyebrow. Carol had that carefully blank expression she got when something was going down and she wasn't sure which side she was going to land on, and you go that. 

You studied the shack and the car in the clearing, but mostly the man on his knees fixing fireworks onto the ground. He grabbed for his radio as he answered the voice. 

"You don't have to tell me. I wipe my own ass." He rose, heading over to the bag of fireworks as he continued. "Alex didn't get it. See, I knew the chick with the sword was bad news. Bitch looked like a weapon with a weapon." 

You turned wide eyes to Carol. He couldn't possibly be talking about Michonne, right? There was no way. You hadn't seen any sign of any of your people, and there had to be more than one person running around with a sword these days. Hell, you wanted one yourself most of the time. Carol held up a hand for caution and you forced yourself to focus. 

"He was always a sloppy-ass mother," the radio answered with a crackle. 

Martin laughed, setting another firework in place. "Yeah, I told Albert I want the kid's hat after they bleed him out." 

That was enough. Chick with a sword? Kid with a hat? That wasn't a coincidence. That was Michonne and that was Carl, and this asshole was talking about bleeding Carl out. Whatever the fuck this place was, it wasn't safety.

You slipped from your hiding place and leveled your gun at Martin's ear, clicking the hammer back so he knew it was there. Shane had taught you not to touch someone with the gun barrel, cause then they'd know exactly where it was. You’d looked at him blankly and asked just how often he thought you mugged people, but now it was useful information. "Keep your finger off the button," you ordered coolly when Martin lifted both hands in surrender. "And drop it." 

Martin dropped the radio and you slid it away with your foot. Carol scooped it up and you gave her a nod as she leveled her tiny revolver at his head. You scanned the trees and checked to make sure Tyreese and Judy were ok as Martin spoke. 

"Listen, ya'll don't have to do this," he said. "Whatever you want. We got a place where everyone's welcome." 

You felt like your scoff was eloquent enough of a response, but Carol spoke dryly. "We're friends of the chick with sword and the kid in the hat." 

"They attacked us. We're just holding them," Martin informed you while you bound his hands in the shack. 

Carol was taking inventory of your weapons and his, and you eyed the fireworks in the bag when you walked over to join her. "Who else do you have?" you asked absently. 

"Just the boy and the samauri, that's it. We were just protecting ourselves!" 

"I don't believe you," Carol informed him flatly. You snorted agreement and slung a rifle over your shoulder. 

"There's a bunch of us out there. In six different directions. There was a lot of gunfire back home." Martin was a talkative bastard, apparently, trying to get himself out of trouble. "We need to set off our charges all at the same time to confuse the dead ones away. That's good for you too!" 

Carol pulled a blanket from her pack and you felt a slow smile spread over your lips as you met her eyes. You nodded and she grabbed her knife, cutting the thing in half as you zipped Martin's bag of fireworks and slung it over your shoulder. 

"No, it isn't," you told him. "There's a herd heading toward Terminus right now." 

"We don't want to confuse them away. We're gonna need their help," Carol agreed. "Ready?" 

You nodded, taking your half of the blanket from her and pulling it over your head. "Ready." 

"You two are scary like this," Tyreese informed you when you stepped to his side and kissed Judy's cheek. "How are you gonna do it?" 

Carol paused in the doorway. "I'm going to kill people." 

Tyreese looked vaguely queasy as she headed out. You kissed Judy again and looked the big man dead in the eyes. 

"You keep her safe. She is all that matters to you." 

He shifted her up in his arms and nodded, and you followed Carol out the door. You had people to save. 

Walkers were easy enough to find and even easier to take down. Smearing the guts and blood all over you was gross and took some time, but when you stopped thinking of it as dead person parts and started thinking of it as elaborate living-art finger painting, your stomach stopped threatening to rebel and let you do your thing. 

There was a real possibility you'd never be able to finger paint again, but that was ok. Worth it if everyone survived this. 

You followed Carol through the woods, wondering who they had and trying desperately not to get your hopes up. Even if Martin had been telling the truth and the only people of yours were Carl and Michonne, that was a miracle. After everything, the distance and the walkers and all that stood between you, to find even two more of your people? 

It was unbelievable. 

Something went off, an echoing bang, and you paused. "Sounded like the flash bangs Shane and Rick geeked out over so bad," you whispered to Carol. 

She smiled at you slightly, but her eyes were worried. "First time you've said his name in awhile. Come on, we're at the fence." 

You started to chew on your fingernail as you followed her, but you grimaced at the blood on your hands. That'd break the habit, you thought. 

You glanced at the impaled walker and considered putting it down, but movement through the fence caught your eye. People swarmed four prone bodies outside a train car, and the next thing you knew, two men where lifted a bound and gagged Rick from the ground and hauling him away. You clutched at Carol's arm before going for the rifle when you recognized the other three as well. Glenn, Bob, and your brother struggled against their captors, but they were bound hand and foot and there was nothing they could do. 

Daryl. And Rick and Glenn and Bob, of course, but that was your twin brother those bastards had tied up like an animal, and you were sighting down the scope at one of them when Carol's hand closed over the sight. 

You glared at her, but she shook her head silently, gesturing toward the trees. You planted your feet and jerked one shoulder in clear refusal, turning back to the fence, but- 

"Damn it," you breathed. They were gone. 

With no other choice, you followed Carol, glaring at her back in silence until you were far enough away to risk speech. "What the hell was that? I could have taken them! Shit, you could have too!"  
"We need to bust open this place and let walkers in. We'd have just gotten them killed. Michonne and Carl weren't with them." 

Ok, damn it, she was right. You pressed your lips together and shoved a bloody hand through your hair. "That's my brother." 

"I know. Let's go save him." 

"Hey, sis. Lookit what I found." 

You looked up from your sketchbook, squinting in the sunlight at your brother. He was covered in dust and dirt, his tattered jeans hanging off his hips cause they were two sizes too big and now sporting rips you’d have sworn hadn’t been there a few hours ago. You frowned, suspicious. He looked too excited about something. "What'd you do? Will's gonna be back any time now." 

"Shit. No he ain't. He's hooked up with some junkie he met at the bar last night," Daryl said with a scoff and a dismissive toss of his head. "Come on. Ya'll like this." 

You left your supplies on the half-rotten steps of the cabin’s back porch, where you'd been sketching broken-glass-and-old-nails wind chime you’d made years ago. As usual, you were unable to resist that look. And besides, you were curious. "How d'ya know that? About Will? He said he’d be back this afternoon." 

"Merle went into town this mornin'. Used up most of the first aid kit after- shit, ya know. Ran into one of Will’s drinkin’ buddies. We ain’t goin’ home tomorrow. Probably not this week, if the money holds. Look, though- found these in that barn, couple miles down? Thinkin' someone stashed 'em." Daryl held up a bag with a grin on his lips that had you beaming back before you even looked in. 

You pulled out a Roman candle and whistled. "Oh, man, Darrie. This is a bad idea." 

"Yeah," he agreed. He flicked the lighter in his hand and raised an eyebrow at you in question. 

You thought about it, chewing on your thumbnail, but holy shit would fireworks be a great project for when you got back home. Seeing some live and in person would make painting them easier, and- 

And, hell, Daryl looked too damn excited and last night had been bad. Merle was pretty fucked up, even if he didn't want to admit it, and Daryl had gotten that bruise around his eye for trying to shift Will's shotgun out of the way while he raged. You'd been terrified, for a minute, that Will would shoot them both, but Merle had come at him again and distracted him. At fifteen, Merle was getting bigger, but he still wasn't a match for Will. No one was, and he'd gotten his ass handed to him for trying. 

"Light 'er up," you declared, grinning when Daryl whooped. He light the fuse and you pointed the firework at the trees, cringing back in nervous anticipation until it went off with a bang. You screamed in delight and laughed along with your brother, turning to him and grabbing his arm. "Your turn! I'll light it!" 

Daryl pulled one out, laughing with you, and you flicked the lighter to life. 

"Ace! Daryl! Put that shit down right the fuck now!" Merle yelled, sounding pissed as hell. 

You flinched, jumping a little, because for a second you'd thought it was Will. But you turned with a scowl for your older brother when you got your breath back, ready to yell at him for scaring you like that. Merle gripped the broken railing in both hands, face pale under the spreading bruises along his jaw and on his cheek. You planted your hands on your hips as you glared his way."What? We're just havin' fun! Darrie found them." 

"Don't care if the queen of fuckin' England gave 'em to ya. Don't ya dare light another one, or I'll tan both ya hides!" Merle snapped. 

You took an involuntary step back and Daryl's hand landed on your shoulder. "Don't threaten us, asshat," he snapped at Merle. "You ain't our boss." 

"Hell yeah, I am! Ya hit that propane tank with one of those shits, ya blow this whole damn place up. Wanna die in a fire like ya mama? That right there's a good way to do it!" Merle spun on his heel and stalked back into the cabin. 

Tears burned in your eyes as he limped away, and you handed Daryl the lighter back without saying a word. You walked back over to the steps, ready to just sketch again, but Daryl caught your arm. 

"He don't mean it, sis. He's just hurtin' damn bad." 

You gave Daryl a tight smile. "I know. Pretty dumb to shoot them so close to the cabin, though. And he's right- he is the boss of us." 

Daryl snorted. "Yeah, I guess. Still an asshat." 

"Well, yeah," you agreed with a grin. "Obviously." 

"We need a way to get the gates open. Let the walkers in," Carol said. 

You crouched with her beside the fence, scanning the gate through the rifle's scope. On the other side, Terminus residents stabbed through the fence much like your crews had at the prison, and you swallowed back the homesick feeling before it could cloud your judgement too much. Panning further, you saw the tank and smiled. 

"I've got an idea. Set one of those bottle rockets in the barrel of the rifle," you instructed. Down below, screams echoed as the fence people saw the herd approaching. Clearly, these were not the hardened teams you'd had, you thought with disdain. "When I tell you, light it and shoot it at the gas." 

"You're going to blow the tank." 

"Yeah," you agreed with a smirk, setting the scope back to your eye and taking aim at the cap covering the release valve on the tank. "It's Merle's idea." 

Carol made a confused noise, but you ignored her as you took a deep breath in through your nose. This was a ridiculous shot. Daryl would have been better for it. Shane too. Merle, even. 

But it was up to you to get in there and save your twin brother's dumb ass, so you shoved aside Will's voice in your head telling you you'd never make the shot, adjusted the rifle minutely, and fired. 

And missed. 

But you didn't miss the second time, and you fist pumped the air silently when gas began to hiss in a cloud that engulfed the oncoming walkers. "Carol, now." 

Carol lit the rocket, and you covered your ears.


	30. Lie #30: "Didn't Need Shane And His- His Goddamn Hero Complex To Come Save The Day" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
past domestic violence  
mentions of rape/non con

Flaming walkers, you thought with a grimace. Definitely one of your least favorite things. You barely turned your head to keep Carol in sight, staggering along in the herd near you. You both paced your movements to match the dead you'd waded into the middle of, and you tried not to breath to deeply. 

Rick and Glenn had told you about doing this in Atlanta, and Glenn's disgusted face had cracked you up at the time. After everything he'd seen since then, wearing walker guts and moving with the herd had still grossed him out beyond belief. You'd done something similar with Andrea, escaping from Mal and the Governor, but she'd taken Michonne's version, and gone walker-on-a-stick. 

You liked that version better, but you needed to fool the living as well as the dead. 

Screaming and gunfire echoed from Terminus, filling the air along with smoke, lingering gas, and the scent of fresh-spilled blood. People were dying in there, by walker and by fire, and to be perfectly honest- you didn't care. They'd brought this on themselves, in your opinion. You shuffled along, impatient to get inside and find your people. For all you knew, they could still be in danger, from the walkers or from the people who'd been talking about fucking bleeding them out. Walker-pace was wearing on your nerves, and you shifted the rifle you were hiding under your gut-covered blanket poncho, trying to get ready. When you broke free of the herd, the two of you would have to do some killing.

Ahead of you, walkers started dropping as careful head shots rained from the roof. You bent, ducking out of sight beside a walker, and headed for an open doorway with Carol on your heels. It was time to get off the main highway, and away from the dead so you could actually move. Thank God.

Carol paused and lifted her rifle, and you raised an eyebrow at her in surprise. 

"Time for some fun?" you asked. 

"Killing people isn't fun." 

In the scope, the man on the roof collapsed as the recoil jerked your shoulder. "No, it isn't. Beats dying, though." 

Carol fired a spray of bullets into the crowd, and you kicked back a walker who finally noticed that the two of you were warm blooded members of the living world and got too close. She slammed the door and started down the hallway. "Maybe. Come on." 

Tables filled the open warehouse-style room, overflowing with clothing, jewelry, weapons, and- and toys. You swallowed hard, forcing down the sick churning nausea the sight of all of it caused, eyes lingering on the table of stuffed animals and dolls. This was a trophy room, in a way, but in another, it was a memorial. This stuff had to have come from victims. There was no other explanation. 

"He wanted Carl's hat," you whispered, running your fingers across a stuffed bear with a suspicious stain on one leg. "After they killed him. Jesus. Remember the good old days when I painted buildings and mixed drinks and only had to worry about cops and being hassled assholes, and you-" 

You broke off, hating yourself immediately, and looked at her with an apology already on her lips. She waved a hand, brushing it off. 

"Cops and assholes weren't all you dealt with, but they were simpler days. Or at least appeared more civilized." She frowned at the watches as you moved to the weapons. "We know better than that, though. This is Rick's watch. He gave it to- to someone we met." 

"When he ditched you, you mean?" you asked, curious. "I'm still pissed about that decision, by the way. So was- Shane wasn't happy when he found out, either. Tore Rick a new one." 

"It's fine. It was the right decision. I wouldn't have allowed me to stay, either," she muttered, still studying the watch. Then she sighed and slipped it into her pocket. "We'd thought he was dead before we even left the neighborhood. Did you find anything?" 

"Oh yeah." You held up Daryl's crossbow with a grin before slinging it over your shoulder. "And the Python. Rick would be pissed if we didn't grab it. Carol, you don't- you don't see anything of Shane's, do you? Maybe with the jewelry.. like his necklace? If the others..." 

You looked away from the pity in her eyes as you trailed off, hating yourself for the letting hope grow inside you. If you didn't find him here, it would be that much harder to accept that your Dickhead was gone, you told yourself firmly. But you brushed past her to scan the table anyway, because hope was a fickle bitch of a thing. There was nothing, you could see that, but you couldn't stop looking. For a shirt, or a weapon that you knew was his, despite the fact that Shane liked Glocks and so did most of the rest of the world, and really, you went through so many shirts these days there was no recognizing one of a thousand plaids as his.

"We need to move." 

"Just give me a minute," you mumbled, shoving through the jewelry again, hoping for a gold 22 to let you know he'd at least made it out of the prison. 

Carol's hand closed on your arm and you jerked, shaking her off. She grabbed you again, spinning you around when you snarled. "Hey. Do you want to save them? We need to move. He might be here, he might not. Your brother is." 

You passed one more agonized glance over the table, but you nodded.

"Ok, what the fuck?" you muttered, stopping dead in the doorway to stare. 

Candles littered the empty room, some hanging in lanterns, some on display shelves, some stuck in bottles, and some resting on the cement floor. You took in the names painted in concentric circles on the floor quickly, your brain picking out the patterns in what looked like chaos of words and candles. "Never Again. Never Trust. We First, Always" was spray painted in block letters on the walls, and you blinked. 

"This is a shrine," you said. 

Carol was already halfway across the room, picking her way between the candles and looking completely unphased by everything around you. She paused when you spoke, glancing over her shoulder and waiting for you to catch up to her. "Why does it matter?" 

"I mean, it doesn't," you said, frowning down at the name at your feet. "But it makes me curious." 

"Drop your weapons and turn around." The voice came from behind, scared but firm, and accompanied by the click of a round entering the chamber. "I wanna see your face."

You sighed and dropped your gun as Carol did the same, then unslung Daryl's crossbow as well. You turned with your hands up and studied the older woman who held you both at gunpoint. She shifted the barrel between you and Carol like she couldn't decide who the better target would be, and you wanted to roll your eyes. It would have been better for her to pick one of you, instead of giving you the split-second opportunity she was providing for you both to duck to either side. 

One of you might get hit, but not both of you. 

"You should have just shot one of us in the back," you told her. 'This is just unprofessional." 

You watched as the gun shifted from you to Carol and started to waver back again, and in the moment where it hovered between you, you moved. You snatched the knife from your waistband and hurled it at her, diving to the side as you did.

The woman was quick, you'd give her that. She got off a shot as she dodged the knife, but she tripped on her skirt and hit the ground. When she fell, the gun slid from her hand. 

You shoved yourself back to your feet, ready to sprint for it, but Carol was way ahead of you. She kicked the gun from the woman's reaching fingers, sending it skittering across the floor. Unfortunately, the Terminus woman slammed into her, taking Carol down and into a wrestling match that knocked candles everywhere and had you muttering curses as you tried to get a clean shot but kept failing. 

Carol got free and you covered her with the rifle as the other woman snatched up a candlestick and whirled, candlestick raised over her head. When she saw you standing there and your gun trained steadily on her, she let it drop from her hands with a long sigh. She looked at you and let out a hard breath, unshed tears gleaming in her eyes. 

"The signs? They were real. It was a sanctuary. People came and took this place." 

"Just tell me where-" Carol started, tone flat as she scooped up Daryl's crossbow and her rifle.

"And they raped and they killed and they laughed… over weeks!" The woman's voice was hard and echoed with old pain, and you swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. 

You knew how that felt. Pain, while someone laughed. It was almost enough to make you not want to burn this place down around her ears, but then she kept going. 

"But we got out and we fought and we got it back! And we heard the message." Her eyes never left yours as a small smile played around the corners of her mouth. "You're the butcher, or you're the cattle." 

Carol strode across the room and swept up your knife and the woman's gun. "The men they pulled from that train car. Where are they?" 

She said nothing, her eyes not leaving yours, and Carol sighed. A single shot rang out and she stepped back to your side, handing you your knife as the woman writhed in pain, clutching her knee. 

"Damn," you whispered. "Ok then." 

"Where are they?" Carol yelled it this time, and you eyed her warily. You had absolutely no idea what she was about to next, and honestly? You weren't mad. Just waiting for your cue. 

You'd never had much of a problem with torturing the bad guys, and tragic backstory aside, this woman was definitely one of the bad guys. 

She laughed. Clutching her leg and bleeding, Carol's gun on her, she laughed. "Now aim it at my face," she demanded.

You snorted when Carol's gun lowered and trained your own on her face, like she'd asked. "Where are our people, you psycho bitch?" 

"You could have been one of us. Both of you! You could have listened to what the world is telling you!" 

"You lead people here and you take what they have and you kill them? Is that what this place is?" Carol asked quietly. 

The woman shook her head. "No, not at first. It's what it had to be." Her voice had gone breathless with the pain, and pity almost crept in again. Then her eyes got hard and she snarled. "And we're still here." 

Carol lowered her gun and tapped you on the shoulder. "Come on." 

"We not gonna-" You cut off and sidestepped rapidly as Carol threw open the side door and four walkers staggered in. 

The woman on the ground started screaming as you followed Carol out the door. You looked back once, and you really wished you hadn't. 

How Carol found her way through the maze of walkers and buildings and the occasional live asshole to the train car they'd been tying your people up in front of, you did not know. You were just grateful she had You eyed the bodies scattered all around, the wide-open door, and the tarp tossed over the fence and did some rapid math. 

"They got out," you told Carol, gesturing to the tarp with the knife in your hand. Blood sprayed at your gesture and you groaned. "I want a bath. They climbed the fence there. I can follow their tracks, in the woods." 

Carol gave you a dubious look, then slashed out at a walker. "You sure?" 

You frowned at her and rolled your eyes. "Ok, I can probably track them. Maybe." 

"Good enough. Go over first," Carol instructed. 

You hauled a walker away from the tarp, stabbed him, and tossed your rifle over. "Better be on my ass," you warned Carol, and flipped less than gracefully over the thing.

\--- Hey, Slugger. Thinking about you. Just got off work, and- see, usually I'd be calling you right about now, cause this was one shit day. But I'll bet you've had worse. Just wanted you to know I'm here. I'm always here, and I'm always gonna be here. 

You stared down at the message on your screen and sighed. You should have known. It'd been four days since you'd heard from Shane last, a quick 'I miss you' that you'd stared at in the bathroom at Mal's place and wondered why you were there. You backed out of the message chain you couldn't bring yourself to delete without scrolling back up, because you'd read them all a thousand times and seeing your laughing conversations with him from months before hurt too much. 

His picture stared out a you from the little circle beside his name- plaid shirt you'd promptly stolen from him partly unbuttoned, necklace visible underneath, shades on, arms crossed… and middle finger up in your direction. You'd taken it one day when he'd come to hang and you'd ended up in the middle of downtown, both of you day drinking beer from travel mugs as you worked on a commission wall and people dropped money into your gear bag, like you were a street performer looking for tips. You'd snapped the picture right after telling him you'd gotten a hundred dollars from passersby, and how much money had he made in his spare time today?

You darkened the screen and shoved your phone back in your pocket, pulling a cigarette from behind your ear and staring at the blank slab of drywall in front of you. You'd already opened the window and put your favorite playlist on shuffle, but as the song registered, you gritted your teeth and headed straight for the docking station on your bookshelf. 

"Nope," you informed it snidely. "I am so not in the mood for Sheeran tonight." 

Not when you were missing your best friend so badly. Not when you were worried about him having a shit day, because that usually meant someone had died and sometimes meant Shane himself had done the killing. 

You wanted to call him. You wanted to drive to King County- you abruptly realized that in five years you'd never been there, not once- and apologize. Make sure he wasn't hurt. 

You dashed angrily at the tears on your cheek and hissed when you hit the bruise Mal had left earlier. 

Yeah, you weren't going to King County. You couldn't deal with the smug 'I told you so', or worse, him treating you like a fucking victim. You weren't a domestic violence case. You weren't a victim, and you didn't need Shane and his- his goddamn hero complex to come save the day. 

You stabbed viciously at the screen, changing the music over from your usual pop syrupy shit- as Shane would have called it- to wailing, drum-heavy punk rock. Angry music, you thought as you turned back to the slab and squinted at it. It fit your mood and the piece you had in mind. 

Grabbing the air compressor, you hooked up the first pot of paint and got to work. Sex Pistols clicked over to Green Day to the Ramones and by the time you forgot about Shane and Mal and everything but the painting, you were humming along as Fall Out Boy said thanks for the memories. You just wished you could put aside a few of your own, you thought. 

Well, that's what art was for. 

By four am, the music had stopped, you were exhausted, and the draft piece was finished. A zombie cop stared out at you from the slab, eyes dead and somehow hungry at the same time, with blood dripping down his chin and 'police' written across his hat. You scrubbed a hand over your eyes, stripped off your paint-splattered shirt and leggings, and pulled the plaid button up you'd stolen from Shane from the back of your closet before you curled up in bed. 

Goddamn, you missed him.

Tracking wasn't hard, since there were so many of them. You stared at the number of prints, the wide swatch of disturbance in the forest floor, and felt tears blur in your eyes.

"Carol. There's… there's eight individual tracks that I can make out. Eight of our people at least," you said with a watery laugh. 

Carol smiled at you and jerked her head toward the trees. "Well. Let's go find them." 

You kept an eye out for walkers as you went, putting down a few individuals drawn by the continuing smoke and gunfire from Terminus. Over the sounds echoing from behind you, something drifted through the trees. You froze, your hands starting to shake. 

You'd know that voice anywhere. 

You took off at a dead run, shedding the gut-covered blanket on the fly and only slowing down when you smacked yourself in the face with a branch and it stung badly enough to have you checking for blood. Not that you could tell one way or another, what with the walker blood still smeared over your cheeks and all on your hands. 

You pushed forward, Carol on your heels, and there they were. They were right there, all of them, and you fumbled for Carol's arm as you stared at the impossible sight in front of you.

"I don't give a shit, man. I'm fuckin' sick of assholes who think just cause the goddamn world ended they can do whatever they want!" 

Shane's back was to you, his voice angry and gestures jerky as he half-yelled at Glenn. Shane was there. He was there, you thought, and willed your mouth to open or your feet to move or something. You couldn't do anything, instead looking blankly around at all the faces you knew and loved as you tried to take it all in. Maggie stood at Glenn's side, Sasha and Bob near her. She and Glenn stood so close their shoulders practically brushed, and you wanted to cry with sheer delight that they were together and safe. Glenn had been so sick last time you'd seen him, even with the medicine. But he didn't look sick now.There were four people you didn't recognize were clustered together as well, but you skipped over them as something to worry about later. Carl and Michonne leaned tiredly on trees nearby, Carl's eyes closed under his hat and his cheek scraped raw. Michonne clutched the sheath for her sword, with wooden chunks sticking out of either end, and had her eyes on Rick like she wasn't sure what to do right then.

Your brothers stood together, Daryl with his arms crossed as he leaned against a tree, staring blankly at the ground at Merle's side. He still had his vest, tattered wings looking dirtier. And Merle, you thought wildly. He'd been almost as sick as Glenn, and you'd begged him to stay inside C block. You'd been certain, in a grim little corner of your mind, that you'd killed him by asking him that. When the tank had blown part of the wall, you'd known he was dead. But he wasn't. He was alive too, and looked up about the same time Rick, pale and wide-eyed, grabbed Shane's shoulder.

"That snake Gareth ain't dead. I left a man who needed killing alive once, and it came back to bite us in the ass. I ain't gonna-"

"Shane," Rick said urgently.


	31. Lie #31: "Sure, You're Not Painting. I Believe That" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
much emoting

"Shane."

"What?" he snarled, glaring at Rick. Rick swallowed hard and didn't say anything else, and the whole damn group seemed to have frozen. 

"Dickhead?" 

Shane closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. He could have sworn he'd heard Ace whisper, and he had to keep it together. He reached into his pocket and clenched his fist around the bullet somehow still there, promising that once Gareth was dead and these guys were safe, he'd take himself out of the equation before he developed Rick's post-Lori brand of crazy and became a problem for the others to deal with. He opened his eyes and shoved to his feet, ignoring the stillness and utter silence of the group around him. "Fine. You're right, Glenn; we got out. Gareth still needs to die, so-" 

Rick grabbed his arm and Shane whirled, fist clenched and ready to go as the temper he could barely contain on a good day- much less the day he finally lost his mind with grief- snapped free and started to run like wildfire. 

Movement caught in the corner of his eye and he turned, clenching the bullet so tightly he felt the bones in his hand grind together. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening, damn it. He had things that needed doing; didn't she know that? Didn't she want him to make sure everyone would be safe before he joined her? 

Shane didn't look directly at her, instead frowning at Carol. Carol couldn't be here either, he thought. Not really. Rick had banished her, and Shane didn't have a clue why he'd be hallucinating her with Ace, and certainly not with them both covered in walker blood and guts, all the way up to their hair and smeared across their faces, bristling with weapons and- 

Daryl sucked in a harsh breath beside him and Shane froze again. Daryl saw- Daryl saw them. Daryl saw them? 

He took a shaky step toward her and she made that noise, the one he'd first heard after Carol's jackass of a husband punched her by the quarry; the first time she'd ever really broken down in his arms. Shane snarled and he found he didn't care what the others thought anymore; if she wasn't there and he was insane, so be it. 

He had to find out. 

"Slugger?" He cursed the way his voice cracked, hated the raw, desperate neediness he heard in it. 

She smiled, tears spilling from her eyes and leaving tracks in the blood smeared on her cheeks. "Who else would it be, Dickhead?" 

Shane's phone rang, some sound he didn't recognize through the haze of sleep. He slapped at the nightstand until he found it, answering without opening his eyes. "What? Walsh." 

"That's a nice way to say hello." The voice sounded amused and slightly off, and Shane scrubbed a hand over his face and cracked one eye to squint at his clock. 

"Ace?" he asked after a beat. It was four thirty in the goddamn morning. What the hell? 

"Who the hell else would be calling you a four am? Listen, Dickhead, thing is, I had a rough night and I'm just on the wrong side of tipsy, and, um…" She trailed off and Shane sat up, swinging his feet out of bed. 

"What? How drunk is tipsy? You got someone in Atlanta you can call?" 

She laughed, long and loose and thick with what Shane thought might have been tears. Tears seemed at odds with her tone, though, so maybe he was wrong about that. "Calm down, Officer Walsh. I'm fine. I'm home now." 

"Now?" he asked suspiciously. Ace was never drunk and he'd never known her to even approach tipsy, either. She definitely was tonight, though, it had him wondering if he needed to be finding some pants and heading her way. 

"Yeah, now. Had a date tonight." 

That was surprising. "Oh?" 

"Yeah. Sucked. Thanks a lot. You said dating might make it better. It didn't." 

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" He settled back in bed, arm up behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He didn't have a clue what she meant, but he was kind of an expert on bad dates, and knowing she was home made him less worried. She wanted an ear, he could lend her one, even at this ungodly hour. "Get your ass in bed, ok?" 

"Dirty, Shane," she said, tone sultry. "You've gotten my ass in bed before. Suppose I'd let you do it again." 

"Alright, settle down, girl." He was grinning now, picturing her with a flush on her cheeks and her eyes even brighter than normal. "I meant go lay down so when you pass out telling me all about the damn date and whatever I said dating would make easier, you'll at least be comfortable." 

She sighed heavily into the phone. "God. Sex sucks." 

"No, it doesn't," he said mildly. "So, you slept with whoever you went out with? Ain't like you." 

"I went out with Mal." 

Shane's lip curled in distaste and he rolled his eyes. "And the sex sucked? Shit, sweetheart, how many signs you need to get you to dump him for good?" 

"Yeah, well. Look, I'm just- I left his place a couple hours ago and drove home and started drinking and you left your shirt here, and I don't know. I miss you. Sex with you didn't suck." 

"Jesus, Slugger. Thanks, and I'm glad, but you need to shut up and go to bed now," he said, biting the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. And maybe to ignore the way talking about sex in the dark while in bed was doing things it shouldn’t be considering it was her on the other end of the line. "Seriously, if you ain't laying down yet, do it now." 

"I am, I am. Why's he so mean to me, Shane? I swear, sometimes it's like- like he only wants me around when I'm not around. That make sense?" She sounded so tired and so sad Shane almost got up again. 

He really hated that bastard she was in love with, he thought tiredly. "You aren't gonna like what I have to say about that," he warned her. 

"Bleh. I know. Sorry. You always want me around, right?" 

She yawned on the other end and Shane could picture her curled up around her pillow. He could almost feel her toes under his knee, and the thought of it made him smile. "Yeah, sweetheart. I always want you around. I'd say come over here now, but I'm thinkin' I'd have to arrest you as soon as you got here." 

"Again, dirty," she mumbled. 

He grinned and closed his eyes, rolling to his side and stuffing the phone between his ear and the pillow. "Yeah, yeah. How about we both catch a couple more hours and then I come to you instead?" 

"Mmm. Sounds good. Hey, Shane?" 

"Yeah, Slugger?"

He fell asleep wondering if she was wearing the shirt she said he left there and waiting, but whatever it was she'd been planning on saying, Shane never heard.

Shane's face pressed into her neck and he held on tight enough he heard her gasp. Her fingers threaded into his hair and he- he fucking lost it. He wasn't crying, and dimly he wondered if he should have been. He wanted to speak, to tell her he loved her and how much he'd fucking missed her, but he couldn't form words. Hell, he couldn't form a thought more coherent than thank god. 

Thank God. 

He'd never been what anyone might call a man of faith, before the end of the world or after, but he thought he might be now. He stared blankly at the trees behind her, eyes wide and dry, and sent up the closest thing to a prayer he'd said in years as he clung to her. 

His Ace. His Slugger. She was- she was dead. He'd known it; he'd felt it, all the way down to the bottom of his soul. Like the sun had gotten darker, he'd seen the loss of her everywhere he looked. 

But here she was, and he wasn't crazy. He wasn't hallucinating this. Or if he was, he was doing it well enough he no longer fucking cared. If he was crazy, so be it. He was fine with it as long as she was in his arms like this. 

"I knew it. I knew it. I knew you'd made it out," she mumbled into his shoulder, and she wasn't close enough to him. He snarled and picked her up off the ground, her legs locking around him like her arms were as soon as her feet left the ground. He took two steps to the side and pressed her back into the nearest tree, framing her face in his hands and staring at her with his forehead pressed to hers. 

Dixon blue eyes he'd thought he'd never see again stared back, shining and wet and impossible. "You really here, sweetheart?" he finally whispered. 

"What do you mean? Come on, hero, of course I am," she answered, looking confused. 

He shuddered, and that was it. He crushed his mouth to hers with a small, pained cry, his hands shaking as he ran them over her face, down her neck and arms, and back up to tangle in her hair. She kissed him back, knotting handfuls of his shirt to draw him closer, and he tasted salty tears and the copper tang of blood on her lips. She was here.

She was alive. It wasn't- it wasn't possible, but she was. 

"How?" he whispered, not taking his lips from hers. "How? You- you were dead. We saw the walkers, what was left of the bodies, and your damn shirt was soaked in blood, and-" 

"What?" she asked blankly. She tugged on his hair until he pulled back enough that she could give him a confused look, her forehead wrinkled and head tilted slightly to the side. "What are you talking about?" 

"Walsh ain't makin' any sense," Daryl said quietly from Shane's side. "He ain't the only one thought ya was dead, though. Found ya shirt, soaked in blood beside the fuckin' train tracks. Walkers all around. We thought-" 

"Oh. Oh, holy hell," she whispered, face going pale beneath the smear of blood. "God. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shut up," Shane ordered. He ran his fingers under the bleeding cut on her cheek. "What happened? Did fuckin' Gareth- if those assholes laid a hand on you, I swear-" 

She snorted, her fingers tangling with his as she pressed his palm to her cheek. "I ran into a tree branch running when I heard your voice." 

Merle laughed raucously and Shane shook his head, smiling as she looked beyond him to grin at her brothers and the rest of the group. "Idiot. Be more careful." 

"Don't need rescuing, hero," she shot back. "Especially since we're the ones who rescued you." 

"You two do all that?" Rick's voice had Ace's eyes going beyond Shane again as she smiled and shrugged. 

"Rick. Shane. You need to come with us," Carol said quietly. 

Ace's eyes went wide. "Oh God. Yeah. Shane, put me down. We need to go, now." 

He scoffed. "I thought you were dead. You think I'm lettin' you go any time soon?" 

"There's gonna be walkers all over the damn place, ya pig bastard, and maybe some of the rest of us wanna chance to hug on her too," Merle said dryly. "Come on, man. Put my lil sister down and let us say hello." 

Shane started to refuse, but Ace was already dropping down out of his arms and ducking around him. Her hand locked into his, and he decided that was going to have to be good enough as she tugged insistently. "Shut up, Merle. No, Dickhead, come on. We have to go, now." 

Shane stepped through Rick's back door and toed his shoes off automatically. "Hey, Slugger. Yeah, I just got back." 

"Why the hell didn't you text me or call me like you said? I was worried!" she bitched in his ear. 

Shane rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, but he couldn't stop the smile when he caught Lori's voice in the living room. "Because I literally just walked through the door at Rick's."

"You went to Rick's before you went home?" 

"Sure. I missed his birthday last week," Shane said easily. He wandered over to their fridge, opening it up and pulling out a soda. "Besides, you said you were too busy to hang out today and I want company. Got anything else you wanna bitch at me about?" 

Rick came around the corner from the living room, Carl following right on his heels and practically vibrating when he caught sight of Shane. Shane waved at Rick lazily and rolled his eyes when Rick nodded at the phone in amusement and raised an eyebrow. "Ace." 

"I don't bitch. What? I'm right here. I'm not painting, I swear." 

"Uncle Shane! You're home!" 

"Hey, little man. Yeah, I'm home," Shane told Carl, ruffling the kid's hair when he latched onto Shane. "Sure, you're not painting. I totally believe that. Look, I'm here; I'm alive. I'll be up to see you day after tomorrow. I gotta go, Slugger." 

"Fine," Ace said, drawing it out dramatically until Shane grinned. "Maybe I'll make you a Lonely Island. If you're nice to me." 

"I'm always nice to you," Shane argued. Rick snorted and Shane flipped him off. "Rick disagrees with me." 

"Rick sounds like he's not an idiot. Tell him happy late birthday for me. Go play with Carl. I'll see you soon, Dickhead. 'Bye." 

"I will. Bye, sweetheart." 

"Sweetheart?" Rick asked immediately. 

Shane rolled his eyes and took a sip from the soda he'd claimed. "Ace said you sound like you're not an idiot." 

"That's- thank you?" 

"She also said happy late birthday. I'm sayin' it too. Sorry I was gone," Shane continued, setting the soda can down and rising to study Rick with his arms crossed. 

"It was your dad's funeral. I'm not mad. Just wish I could have gone with you," Rick said quietly. "You ok?" 

Shane shrugged. "I'm cool, man. We gonna hug or what? Ain't seen you in three weeks." 

Rick laughed and grabbed Shane in a backslapping hug. "I missed you, brother. Glad you're back." 

Her fingers gripped his tightly, her other hand curled around his arm, and Shane was too busy with the miracle of that to care where she and Carol were leading them or why. The whole group was beaming at each other, even the new red-headed bastard and his people, though they stayed quiet as they made their way through the trees.

Carol had found them, and Ace was fucking alive. 

Then they emerged into a clearing with a shack and a broken-down car, and for a second Shane didn't understand what all the fuss had been about. He frowned when Ace stopped, squeezed his hand once, and let go, standing off to the side and turning that smile on Rick and Carl as well. He opened his mouth to ask her what she thought she was doing, going so far away from him, when the door to the shack opened. 

Tyreese stepped out, and in his arms- 

Shane was half a step behind Rick, and it was only because he'd already had one major fucking shock today. He skidded to a stop as Rick took Judith from Tyreese, the big man smiling at both of them and surrendering her willingly. Shane had one hand on Judy's back and the other on Carl's, the kid joining them with tears streaming down his cheeks right on Shane's heels. Rick wrapped his arm around Shane's shoulders and Shane leaned into his best friend's side, unashamed to admit he was overwhelmed and lost. 

Judy was alive. Ace was alive. His baby and the love of his fucking life, both of them, here with everyone else he'd thought he'd lost. 

Everyone except Beth. 

The thought slammed through the wildfire joy, sobering him briefly as he glanced over their group. Sasha and Tyreese were talking, smiling at each other and teary eyed as the rest of the group, and Shane was glad for them. Maggie leaned her head on Glenn's shoulder as she watched the reunions, and Shane offered her a guilty smile when her eyes met his. Tara looked like she was about to cry as well, and Shane wondered briefly how much she'd learned from Maggie and Glenn and Merle. Carol stood at Daryl's side, watching everything and everyone, but mostly Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene, who ran the gamut from confused to happy as they eyed what was going on.

And his Slugger stood between her brothers, her cheek pressed to Merle's chest and engulfed in her older brother's arms. Daryl had her hand in one of his, staring down at the ground with his jaw tight and his knuckles white on the strap of the crossbow she'd somehow managed to save for him. 

Because of course she had, he thought as Rick passed Judy to him. Carl leaned into Shane as they followed Rick back to the knot of their people, and Merle let Ace go with the same reluctance Shane had felt. 

Judy reached for her when they got closer, and Shane hadn't thought he could feel joy so strong it hurt, but he could. When Ace cuddled his little girl and smiled at Carl, he thought he was going to break into pieces from the wild, unstoppable happiness bubbling over. He pulled them both to him, tangling his fingers in Ace's hair as she leaned against him like she had against Merle. Judy squirmed and made and annoyed noise at being sandwiched in their arms, so Ace shifted her with the ease of practice to balance on her hip. Shane stroked his fingers down Judith's cheek and she gurgled at him, and he chuckled. 

"You got her," he whispered to Ace. "You got her. I thought- I thought she was dead too. We saw her car seat sitting there, and- but you got her. You got our girl." 

Ace brushed her lips to his cheek as Shane drew in a shaky breath. "Of course I did. I had to. I promised you, didn't I?" 

He closed his eyes, holding both of them a little tighter. "Oh, Jesus, Slugger, I love you. I love you."


	32. Lie #32: "I Hate All Of You" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
mentions of suicidal behavior

It didn't take long for Carol to casually mention that there was a very large fire behind you and maybe staying close by wasn't the best idea in world. Despite the way Shane held you like he never wanted to let you go again, his hands shaking slightly as he combed through your hair and traced patterns on your back with his fingertips, she was right. None of you wanted to be wandering again, not when you'd only just come together and there were stories to tell and tears to shed. 

But survival came first. 

You held Shane's hand tightly, his grip hard enough to bruise, and walked between him and Daryl. You couldn't fucking believe that the two of them had gotten out together, and had made it all this way without killing each other. 

"Beth kept us straight, to start with," Daryl said quietly. 

Shane's hand in yours clenched, and you looked between the two of them. "What happened?" 

"She got taken. Picked up by a car, white cross on the back, while Dixon and I were handling walkers," Shane told you, shoving a hand through his hair with a tormented look. 

"Damn it," you whispered. "I'm sorry, hero." 

He offered you a faint smile and lifted your joined hands to press a kiss to your fingers. "We'll find her." 

You didn't think so, but shit- You'd never have anticipated finding all of these guys either. 

Twigs snapping to the side drew everyone's attention, and a lone walker came staggering toward you. 

"I've got it," Michonne announced, reaching over her head for a sword that wasn't there. 

You sighed, guilt spearing through you that you hadn't been able to locate her sword for her. Daryl's crossbow and Rick's Python had been gratefully received, Shane shaking his head and muttering that you and Carol were in charge of all expeditions from now on. But you hadn't seen the samurai sword anywhere, and as Michonne bashed the walker's head in with the rifle you wished again that you had. 

"Shit, sugar, ya a damn sight messier without that sword," Merle called. "Got brains all over ya gun." 

Michonne shot him a an enigmatic look. "What else was I supposed to use?" 

"I dunno," Merle said with a shrug and a grin. "Ain't got any other kinda blade?" 

"I had a sword. Why would I need a knife?" 

You bit your lip to keep from laughing at the sheer disgusted annoyance in Michonne's voice. Shane glanced down at you and rolled his eyes, and you leaned into his arm as you walked. You'd missed them so much, you thought as you looked around at your crazy family. You'd missed them all so much. 

Rick called a halt and jerked his head for Shane and Daryl to join him for what you assumed would be a leadership conference. Hopefully decisions would be made and plans would follow, since you found yourselves back in a pre-prison hellscape of a situation, but with the added fun of a baby. You needed the Rick you'd had before the prison, and you suspected, looking at him with his head together with Shane and Daryl, that he might be back. They had given you the quick and dirty version of them finding Rick, Michonne, and Carl, and holy shit. Rick had ripped someone's throat out. With his teeth. 

They could get you to where ever it was you were heading next. And honestly? Unlike Merle's new friends- Abraham the military man, tough-as-nails Rosita, and Eugene the scientist who could apparently kill all the walkers collectively and officially zero of them individually- you didn't give a shit where you went next. 

Merle's arm landed around your shoulders. "So, the pig bastard decided he could stand to let go of ya after all, then?" 

"Don't be an ass," you chided. "He has a name. And he thought I was dead." 

"Yeah, I done got told. I'm real glad ya ain't, baby sister," Merle said softly, bending and planting a kiss on your cheek. "But I gotta tell ya- you'n Miss Carol sure don't smell- or look- too damn pretty. Why don't the two of ya head down to that there stream and clean yourselves up a bit." 

You lifted an eyebrow. "This really the time?" 

"You do have walker innards in your hair. And your eyebrows. And I want to check that cut on your cheek. It's hard to tell what's walker blood and what's your blood," Shane said, coming back over from his huddle with Rick and Daryl. "Besides, Judy's been giving you odd looks." 

You snorted. "Bullshit. Judy's seen me look worse and been fine with it. We stopped for awhile?" 

"Yeah, we're gonna set up a camp here," Shane agreed. "Far enough out from Terminus we shouldn't see any herds. Got the stream and shit. Daryl said it was a good spot; Rick agreed." 

"Then fine. Come with me. Stand guard, I guess," you said with a shrug.

"Shit, baby sis. Ain't no privacy down there. Don't scar the rest of us for life now, ya hear?" Merle drawled, winking luridly in your direction. 

You groaned loud enough that Daryl looked over in your direction curiously. "You're a dick. Go play with your new best friend and leave us alone. Now that you two have brought it to my attention, I feel disgusting and I want to get clean." 

Shane scrubbed at the walker blood in your hair. Eyes closed, you leaned against him, sitting on the bank and enjoying the sensation of being relatively clean. 

"This isn't watching for walkers," you said slowly, exhaustion you'd been barely holding at bay since seeing the Governor's face starting to creep in. Funny, you had a feeling you'd be able to sleep tonight. 

Shane's lips brushed your neck, his arms wrapping around you and drawing you into his lap. "Don't exactly give a shit, Slugger." 

You cuddled in against him, listening to his heartbeat and fiddling with the 22 somehow still around his neck. "Fair enough. God, Dickhead," you whispered. "I didn't- I didn't know what to do. Carol kept telling me I couldn't go back. Not until Judith was safe, and I knew she was right. But- I didn't know if you were alive or dead, or my brothers, or anyone else."

"I should have gone with you," he said. "When you wanted to get to her. I should have gone with you." Shane's lips found yours, and you clung to him, losing yourself in it for a long time.

"Ok, you two, share the stream. Ace isn't the only one who needed to get clean." Carol's amused tone had you breaking away from Shane to make a face at her. "Hey, I'm doing you a favor. Merle wanted to come down and get you."

You woke up warm, something heavy draped across you and holding you in place. For a split second you had no idea where you were or what was going on before panic faded when Shane's arm twitched over you and his hand clenched into a fist. You smoothed his fist out gently, until his hand lay flat against your stomach and he sighed. You cuddled closer under his arm, opening your eyes reluctantly since if you really woke up you'd end up getting up. It was dark, the fire crackling lowly in the middle of the clearing. Other sleeping bodies lay around, the air disturbed only by soft breathing and the occasional shuffling movement. 

You lay still for a moment, feeling Shane's steady breathing on the back of your neck. 

He was alive. He was alive, and you'd found him. It was something you'd never take for granted again. He shifted again, mumbling unhappily as he pulled you tighter and pressed his face to the back of your neck. You couldn't help but smile as he held you like you were a damn a teddy bear. 

How many times had you woken up like this with him? Shit, even before the end of the world had shoved how much you loved this man into your face, you'd been here more than a few times. You'd both laugh it off the next morning, but if Shane slept in your bed, he reached for you. And you let him.

You turned and squinted up at the stars, trying to figure out how long you'd been asleep. The spiderweb edge of exhaustion that had been hanging over you for so long you’d almost forgotten it wasn't normal had faded, so clearly you'd actually gotten some rest. 

"I don't wanna talk about it." 

You lifted your head and looked for the source of Carol's soft comment, smiling when you found her and Daryl sitting side-by-side on watch. Daryl's chin rested on the butt of his crossbow as he stared at Carol in silence, and amusement had you watching and listening in. You'd been on the receiving end of your twin's silent, patient waiting more than once. It'd be fun to see how long it took Carol to crack. 

"I can't," Carol added firmly. "I just need to forget it." 

You knew what she was talking about and your heart twisted. Yeah, you needed to forget it as well- Lizzy holding a knife, Mika's blood creeping along the ground and staining Judith's blanket, one single gunshot and the sick squelch of a knife sliding through a skull. You shivered, wondering if agreeing to keep it quiet was the best idea the three of you had ever had. 

You'd tell Shane. Probably Daryl and Merle as well. But like Carol, you just- you just couldn't. Not yet. 

"All right," Daryl finally said, sounding as utterly unconvinced as you were. 

You closed your eyes again, settling back down into Shane's arms, when you heard the snap of a twig in the trees. You were on your feet in an instant, gun in hand and scanning the night. Daryl scoffed lightly as he joined you. 

"Thought ya was asleep." 

"I was," you whispered back to him. "Till I wasn't. There's nothing there." 

"Yeah," he agreed. He gave you the same look he'd turned on Carol as you followed him over to the tree they'd chosen for watch. 

You touched Carol's arm and she smiled at you faintly. "You should be sleeping," she informed you. 

"So should you. It's Darrie's watch," you shot back. 

"Stop callin' me fuckin' Darrie." 

You grinned and leaned into his side, head on his shoulder. "No." 

"Somethin' happened out there," he said after a moment of quiet among the three of you. "Somethin' bad. I can see it, in ya both. Don't wanna talk about it, that's aight. We all got shit. Just sayin', I'm here. If ya do." 

"Awww," Carol said with a chuckle. "Thanks, Pookie. We're ok. I'm ok, anyway. Well, since Ace is up, I'm going to sleep." 

"Sounds about right," you agreed, and she rolled her eyes at you. You stayed leaning on Daryl's shoulder, partly because he was there and so were you, but mostly because you'd missed him. You'd been certain Merle was gone. He had to have been, sick as he was and in C block when the tank hit it? You'd known, even if you hadn't admitted it to yourself. 

But you'd been fairly certain Daryl was gone, too, and he wasn't. He was back at your side, and you'd missed him being there. 

"Hey," you whispered, setting your chin on his shoulder until he jerked it out from under you with a scowl. 

"Fuckin' bony chin, Ace, that hurts," he grumbled. He glanced over and the healing black eye hurt your heart, but he could take it. "What are ya grinnin' at?" 

You kissed his cheek and lay your head on his shoulder again. "You." 

Daryl's snort was eloquent, but he slung his arm around your shoulders. "Missed ya." 

"Missed you back," you told him. Silence fell again and you watched Shane, now on his back, in the flickering firelight. "Thank you." 

Daryl twitched like he'd forgotten you were there. "For what?" 

"You and Shane, getting out together. You kept him alive. I can't- shit, Dar, I can't say thank you enough," you said, sniffing as your eyes filled. 

Daryl scoffed. "So he told ya, then? He take the goddamn bullet out of his pocket and put it back in his gun?" 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

He grimaced and rolled his eyes as you sat up and stared at him. "Course he didn't fuckin' tell ya. What was I thinkin'? When he wakes up, ask him about the fuckin' bullet in his pocket. He was keepin' one. Ya know. For himself." 

You stared at Daryl as pure panic ran through you. Your hands shook as you reached one up to shove your hair back, swallowing hard past the lump in your throat. "He what? Darrie, he what?" 

Daryl sighed. He grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers. "He wasn't gonna do it. I wouldn't'a let him anyway."

Somehow, that didn't make anything better. 

You didn't say anything to Shane about it the next morning, since you were busy with Carl and Judith, breaking down camp, and riding herd on your dumbass brother and his new dumbass redheaded friend. 

"That ain't how ya bank a fire properly," Merle insisted, looming over Abraham as he crouched. "Ya wanna add a forest fire to the world's list of problems? Ain't no damn firefighters to come handle it." 

"This is- look here, jackass. You cover the fire with dirt. It ain't exactly hard," Abraham shot back, rising with his chest puffed out and his jaw set to stare at Merle. "Therefore, it is, in fact, the proper way to do it." 

"Yeah? Then why's there smoke comin' from it still?" 

Abraham looked like smoke was about to come from his ears when Michonne stepped over, looked down at what had been the fire, and kicked more dirt on it. "There," she said simply, rolling her eyes at you. 

"Thought you were Army, Sergeant!" Merle barked. "That kinda slipshod work never would have flown in my platoon." 

"Oh you wouldn't have lasted two minutes in one of my squads, you-" 

"Boys!" Michonne snapped, stepping between them. "Put them away. It's time to move." 

You snorted when she stepped over toward you, shaking her head as she clearly prayed for patience. "Now there's two of them." 

"I noticed," Michonne said dryly. "Overgrown children." 

Judith gurgled at her as if in agreement and you laughed. 

Rick led, big surprise, heading through the trees with the purposeful stride of someone with a destination in mind. That was fairly amusing, since you knew for a fact from Shane that you were mostly just picking a direction to get as far from Terminus as possible before you maybe committed your group to Merle's new buddy's Washington mission. 

Shane had told you he'd offered to go with them, if they made it out of the fucking train car. He'd added in a fierce voice, watching the camp with his arms crossed, that you weren't splitting the group up again, though. If Rick got on board, so would Shane. That was it.

You'd go where Dickhead went. 

You hesitated, thinking about a bullet in Shane's pocket and wondering if now was the time to bring it up. You couldn't- Shane couldn't- Your hand clenched around his and he looked at you, concern in his eyes.

Something rustled nearby and the whole armed lot of you had weapons out and ready to go when your brothers came around a tree. Merle eyed the group with a smugly satisfied smile- like your level of alertness had anything to do with him- and Daryl scoffed. 

"We surrender," he said dryly, hitching a string of squirrels up on his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and stepped closer as Daryl fell in beside Rick. "No tracks. No nothing." 

"So whatever you heard last night…" Rick trailed off, giving him a confused look. 

"Was more what I felt," Daryl said reluctantly. "But if someone was watchin' us, there'd have been something." 

You started chewing on your thumbnail absently, considering. Daryl could track anything in the woods, damn it, and if he couldn't find sign? There was no sign to be found. Problem was, you'd felt- and heard, damn it- the same thing he had. And you were about as convinced as your twin. 

Shane grabbed your hand and pulled your thumb from your mouth, kissing your fingertips. "Keep close," he told the rest of the group. "Tighten it up, everyone, come on." 

"Help! Please, anybody, help!" 

Rick threw up his hand and everyone froze as the cries carried faintly through the trees. You slung the rifle from your back and looked down the line, finding Judith in Carol's arms and Merle covering her with his own gun out and face serious. She set one hand on Merle's back, and you knew Judy was in good hands with the two of them. You focused back on the trees as you waited for Rick and Shane to decide what the hell to do. 

Carl wasn't so patient. "Come on. Dad, come on!" he urged as whoever it was kept yelling for help. The kid turned irritated, urgent eyes Shane's way, and Shane shrugged. Rick nodded. 

Your group took off at a run. 

Five walkers were dispatched with brutal efficiency while whoever it was screamed on top of the rock. Shane grabbed your arm and turned you toward him, eyes raking over you urgently. You lifted an eyebrow and shook blood from your knife blade. 

"Seriously? I'm fine," you muttered to him, brushing a light kiss to his lips. A couple of walkers were no big deal.

He ran his fingers down your cheek and wrapped his arm around your waist as the man scrambled down from the rock. You blinked, taking in the black suit and the white collar, as well as the terrified eyes. 

"You okay?" Rick asked, sounding just as confused as you felt. 

The man leaned over and started puking, and Shane scoffed. 

"Well, Slugger," he said dryly. "Found you a priest."

Yeah, that had you laughing.

Shane didn't even need to say anything to have you taking Judith and waiting outside the church while he and the others cleared it. Father Gabriel watched you closely enough that you were uncomfortable, but you figured it was probably just the shock of seeing a baby. 

He was weird, you'd decided pretty much immediately. And he was hiding something. But he seemed harmless enough. 

He'd said he had no weapons of any kind, and when Rick had searched him that turned out to be true. You'd leaned into Shane when Rick asked Gabriel how many walkers he'd killed, how many people he'd killed, and why, and you'd blinked in disbelief when the answers were none, none, and 'because the Lord abhors violence'. 

Shane hadn't needed to do more than shoot a glance your way when you reached Saint Sarah's Episcopal Church, that look in his eyes that made you want to argue with him making your teeth grind together. Instead, you nodded and took the baby from Carol, smiling slightly when Shane's expression softened into a thank you. 

Rick came striding out not long after they'd gone in, handing the priest back the keys. 

"I spent months here without stepping out the front door. If you found someone inside- well, it would have been surprising," Gabriel said, another ill-attempt at humor that your people- especially Rick- largely ignored. Rick's thousand yard stare had you pressing your lips together and trying not to laugh, especially when Gabriel looked away from Rick and then back, laughing nervously at his own joke.

"We found a short bus out back," Abraham told Rick. 

The words popped out before you thought about it. That was your only excuse.

"Good, you probably need it." You slapped a hand over your mouth as Merle cracked up and all eyes turned to you. 

Abraham grinned. "Your brother found it, and he seemed right at home. It don't run, but I bet we could fix that in a day or two. Father here says he doesn't want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport."

Rick said nothing, giving you and Shane a significant look as he came and reached for Judith. You handed her over easily as Abraham asked if Rick understood what was at stake. "Yes, I do," Rick said quietly. 

"Now that we can take a breath-" 

Abraham interrupted Michonne. "We take a breath, we slow down, shit inevitably goes down." 

Well, you found that one hard to argue with, you thought. But Rick and Michonne were right- you needed supplies. As Shane said, priorities were food, water, ammunition. Abraham looked pissed as Rick and Michonne headed into the church with Carl and Judy, Daryl on their heels and promising him some baked beans.

"Rick's a good man. He'll come around," Merle told Abraham. "Give him a minute. They all just dealt with some shit." 

Abraham started to speak, turning a hot glare Merle's way, but Merle just raised his eyebrows. "We've been dealing with shit since the world got broke, and the only way to make the shitstorm stop is to get Eugene's hairy ass to Washington." 

"We're not splitting up," Glenn said as he headed inside. "We all go, or none of us do." 

"What he said," Maggie agreed. 

Tara paused on her way in and shrugged. "What she said." 

You liked Tara, you decided. You liked her a lot. Your eyes narrowed on Merle. "Why are you so into going to Washington?" 

Merle snorted and grabbed your elbow, steering you up the stairs. "Sugar, does this world look fun to ya? Smartypants back there with the hair can fix it. I ain't exactly havin' the time of my life, and I know you ain't either." 

"That's fair," you agreed, taking in the church as you entered. "We're not splitting up." 

"Hell naw. Just found you two shits, ain't lettin' ya get in trouble without ol' Merle to watch ya back," he agreed. "Gotta watch out for my baby siblings." 

"Shut up, asshole," you told him, but you were smiling. Shane held out a hand to you from the front of the church, and you headed up to join him and the others. 

"How'd you survive here for so long? Where'd your supplies come from?" Rick asked Gabriel intensely. 

"Luck. Our annual canned food drive," the priest said, giving you a nervous smile as Shane pulled you close. "Ended just before. I was alone, so it lasted quite a while. I've cleaned out every place nearby since, however. Except for one." 

"What kept you from it?" Rick asked. 

"It's overrun," Gabriel said. "A dozen or so, maybe more." 

"We can handle a dozen," you put in. 

Shane grunted. "Not you." 

"Excuse you?" you asked, eyebrows shooting up as you turned on him. "Not who now?" 

"Ain't ya learned nothin', Walsh?" Daryl muttered, sounding disgusted.

"Not you. Not me. We're staying here. Keep a watch over Judy and Carl," Shane said easily. He ignored the others in favor of giving you the damn puppy eyes, his fingers twinning with yours as he did. 

Your eyes narrowed and you were ready to tell him exactly what you thought about him making unilateral decisions- even ones you agreed with; you didn't actually want to do, you just didn't like being told what to do- when Merle let out a loud groan. "Shit, y'all. Get out while ya can. They gonna fuck!" 

You slapped a hand over your eyes as laughter rang out from all around the church, feeling your cheeks heat up immediately. "We are in a church, you ass! I hate all of you. You're sickos."


	33. Lie #33: "You’re Not Leaving My Arms Again, Slugger. Never.”— Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
mentions of suicidal behavior  
light smut

Shane was going to bitch Merle out until he apologized to his sister, since for all Ace handled it like a champ, Shane could see the blush on her cheeks still as she talked quietly with Carl and mixed a bottle for Judy. He still couldn't believe she'd not only survived, but saved their baby girl, too. And for all she said she wasn't a mother, his baby was hers. Everyone could see she was Judith's mom as much as anyone was. Even Rick said so. 

"Sure you won't change your mind, brother?" Rick asked at his elbow. 

Shane shook his head. "Naw. You've got plenty goin'. I'll stay here. Keep an eye on everyone." 

Rick followed Shane's eyes back to where Carl was laughing at something Ace had said. Ace flicked the brim of the kid's hat down and Carl shoved it back up again, glaring lightly at Shane's girl. "They'll be ok," Rick said. "You got them back." 

"Yeah," he agreed. He swallowed hard against the fear that pooled in his stomach, reaching into his pocket to touch the bullet he still had there as he told himself that they wouldn't disappear again just because he took his eyes off them. "Yeah, I did. I can't- man, I've got to-" 

"I know," Rick agreed. "I'm taking Sasha, Bob, Michonne, and the Father. Daryl and Carol are going for water. Maggie, Glenn, and Tara are heading to look for guns, ammo. The others will be here." 

Shane nodded. "Sounds like a plan." 

"Yeah. I'm leaving you Merle. Sorry about that. Carl," Rick called, and the kid came over still smiling. 

"Aunt Ace says keep an eye out for some hair dye," Carl informed Rick. "And a sketchbook." 

"Shit," Shane muttered with a grin as he watched her sizing up the space between the church's windows. "There's probably some crayons in the Sunday school room over there." 

"That's what I told her," Carl agreed. Then he turned back to Rick. "What is it, Dad?" 

"I don't trust this guy," Rick said seriously. 

"Why?" Carl asked. 

"Why do you?" Shane muttered. 

Carl thought about it for a minute and shrugged. "Everybody can't be bad." 

Rick chuckled slightly and Shane shook his head when Rick met his eyes. Rick patted Carl's cheek as he studied his son. "Fair enough. But I don't trust this guy. And that's why I'm bringing him with me. But he could have friends, so I need you to stay alert."

Carl gave his dad an almost offended look that had Shane's lips twitching, but he stayed quiet as Rick continued. 

"Now, I need you to hear what I'm about to say. You are not safe. No matter how many people are around, no matter how clear the area looks, no matter what anyone says, no matter what you think- you are not safe." 

"Jesus, Rick," Shane muttered, shooting his friend a look as Carl's eyes took on a shadow Shane remembered from the winter they'd spent running around. 

Rick ignored him, and Shane remembered a fair amount of that happening as well. "It only takes one second. One second, and it's over. Never let your guard down, ever. I want you to promise me." 

Shane's eyes moved to Ace and Judy again, his baby leaning back against Ace's chest and holding her bottle while Ace sketched into the air absently. Yeah, maybe Rick was right, he thought as Carl promised. Never let your guard down. He'd let his down, settled into life at the prison and been happy, and he'd lost everything for awhile. 

It didn't matter that he got it back. He'd lost it, and he couldn't do that again. 

"Dad," Carl said when Rick clapped Shane on the back and headed for the door. Rick stopped and Shane looked back at the kid, all shaggy hair and earnest conviction in his eyes as he looked between them. "You're right. I am strong. We all are. But we're strong enough that we can still help people. And we can handle ourselves if things go wrong. We're strong enough that we don't have to be afraid and we don't have to hide." 

Rick nodded seriously, and Shane contemplated smacking his friend in the back of the head when Rick just said, "Oh, he's hiding something." 

Carl sighed. Apparently the kid recognized futility when he saw it in his dad's face. "I'll stay safe, Dad." 

Shane waited until Rick had left before he looked at Carl and jerked his shoulder toward the doors. "Come on, kid. Help me check the perimeter. They've got it covered in here, and we need to make sure those two ex-Army bastards don't kill each other working on the bus."

Carl snorted and followed him out. "Uncle Shane?" 

"Yeah, kid?" Shane scanned the trees as he walked the church, rattling boards over the windows and thinking about looking for Sophia. There'd been a church then too, and Carl had gotten shot soon after. 

He put that out of his mind and focused on the current shitstorm. 

"I'm not wrong about helping people." 

Shane stopped moving with a sigh and faced Carl. "No, you're not. But right now, our priority is our people. The ones in there, the ones out looking for shit. We'll help people who want to be helped. But your dad's right too. We ain't safe. Not really. Not yet." 

"Not yet?" Carl said, tilting his head in a move that was pure Rick. 

Shane nodded grimly. "Not yet. But we will be. Might not be till Smartypants Eugene flips a switch and fixes the whole damn world, but- we will be." 

"How do you know?" Carl asked as they started walking again. 

Shane shrugged, testing another window. "We have to be. Can't raise your little sister like this. Not for long. Shit, can't raise you like this for long." 

"I think I'm pretty much raised already." 

"Naw," Shane said with a playful scoff. His eyes narrowed on something beneath the window he was checking, and he stepped closer to look. "You're still young yet. What the hell?" 

Carl leaned in as Shane ran his fingers over the letters carved into the church wall. "'You'll burn for this.' That's cheerful." 

Carl sighed. "Looks like Dad's right. He's hiding something." 

Shane sent Carl inside and went to check on Abraham and Merle. He found them, as he expected, arguing. Two peas from the same damn pod, he thought. 

"Well, if ya knew how to do more to a damn engine that just check the oil-" 

Abraham had a wrench clenching in his fist as he glared at Ace's oldest brother. Shane had to admire the way Merle leaned against the bus, legs crossed at the ankles and rifle in his hand, and gestured broadly with his other arm. Despite the missing hand, he managed to convey the idea that he was flipping Abraham off. 

Shane wished he knew how Merle managed that as Abraham tossed down the wrench and stabbed a finger Merle's way. 

"I fixed tanks! Tanks! In the middle of the goddamn desert. Did you fix tanks, shithead?" 

Merle grinned. "Naw. Didn't need to. But I fix cars over here, and even one handed I could do a better job of getting this piece a' shit movin' than yer doin'." 

"Then why don't you get off your redneck ass and-" 

"Problem, gents?" Shane interrupted dryly. 

Merle shrugged. "Only with Abraham's credibility, pig. Seems to think he knows his way around a damn engine, but ya hear this thing purrin' yet?" 

"Just keep it down. Don't want to draw walkers," Shane said, jerking his chin toward the trees. Merle saluted him lazily with his missing hand and Shane started to go back inside. 

"Officer Walsh." 

He turned, wondering what the hell was going to come next. Abraham had his hands braced on the engine and his serious eyes on Shane, and he waited. The redhead shoved off the engine and faced him. "In the train car, you said you'd come to Washington." 

"I know," Shane agreed cautiously.

"It seems to me as though you grasp the importance of the mission I am on and trying to recruit Rick and the rest of you people to joining me in. Rick doesn't seem to understand the urgency." 

Shane snorted. "Rick understands just fine." 

"Barkin' up the wrong goddamn tree there, Red," Merle drawled, tone a warning. "He ain't doin' nothing before Rick's good and ready." 

"Why the hell not?" Abraham exploded. "Why won't one of you take a moment and try to explain to Rick-" 

"Cause it don't need explaining. Rick Grimes is my partner. My best friend. We will go to Washington when Rick is good and damn ready to go to Washington. Merle, tell him how it is," Shane snapped, and headed back to the church. He'd been away from Ace for too long, worry churning in his stomach despite the fact that she was right inside. 

Shane sat on one of the pews, Ace sideways in his lap, and watched everyone laughing and eating. Rick had brought back a goddamn feast, and not even his and Carl's discovery could dampen everyone's spirits right now. Ace stole bites from his plate as she talked animatedly with the others about everything and nothing, laughing as she sipped communion wine and Shane studied her face in the candlelight. 

It was something he'd never have considered, before the world ended- how Ace would look in warm, flickering light. But Shane had been given a lot of opportunities to see her by fire and by candlelight, and he was starting to think it wasn't the flames that made her seem to glow like this. It was just her. 

He tangled his hand in her hair and tugged her to him, and her eyes lit up as she realized what he wanted. Her lips were warm on his, the taste of wine and Ace spreading along his tongue as she sank into the kiss with a sigh.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Abraham declared. 

Shane groaned when Ace pulled away. 

"Sorry, Dickhead. I'm a bartender. I believe in the sanctity of the toast," she declared, eyes dancing but face solemn. 

He snorted and leaned in to kiss his way up her shoulder instead. 

"I look around this room, and I see survivors," Abraham started. "Each and every one of you has earned that title. To the survivors!" 

"To the survivors!" Everyone, including Ace, echoed. Shane went back to kissing his way up her neck, not caring what the others- including her asshole brother- would have to say about it. She tipped her head to the side, letting him get his mouth over her pulse, and Shane could feel it racing. He smiled against her skin and bit down lightly, and Ace shivered. 

"That all you want to be?" Abraham asked. 

Shane dropped his forehead to Ace's shoulder and groaned. "Now, man? Really?" 

"Yeah, now. Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse and repeat? Cause you can do that. I mean, you got the strength. You got the skill. Thing is, for you people, for what you can do? That's just surrender. Now we get Eugene to Washington and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again, and that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip." 

Ace shot Shane a look over her shoulder, her eyes troubled, and Shane shrugged. He was with Rick. If that meant Washington, ok. If not, ok. 

"Eugene. What's in DC?" Abraham asked. 

The man with the mullet cleared his throat. "Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this FUBAR magnitude. That means food, fuel, refuge. Restart."

"However this plays out; however long it takes for the reset button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you've been since this whole thing started. Come with us. Save the world for that little one," Abraham added as Rick shifted Judith and looked over at Shane. 

Shane tilted his head slightly and raised one eyebrow and Rick gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Shane nodded back, knowing Rick had already made up his mind. 

They were going to Washington. 

"Save it for yourselves," Abraham continued, not knowing he'd already won over who he needed. "Save it for the people out there who don't got nothing left to do except survive." 

Silence fell as everyone looked at each other and waited for Rick. Ace glanced Shane's way and he smiled, and she relaxed immediately. Judith cooed at Rick and he chuckled. 

"What's that? I think she knows what I'm about to say," Rick said as laughter ran the room. "She's in. If she's in, I'm in." 

"If he's in, we're in," Shane added. Ace nodded, and Merle laughed, rising to clap Abraham on the back. 

"Told ya. Rick's the damn key. Ya know I'm in, if little brother's comin' too." Merle tossed a look Daryl's way, and Ace's twin just shrugged. 

"We're in," Rick repeated, and everyone cheered. 

Shane slid Ace from his lap and whispered in her ear as he stood up. "Give it five minutes and follow me." 

She bit her lip as she scanned the laughing faces all around, finally nodding with those damn blue eyes dancing. He sauntered toward the front of the church, trying for casual. Not that he gave a shit was these assholes had to say, but sometimes, discretion was called for. If he didn't want to have to deck Merle Dixon tonight, he figured this was one of those times. 

He ducked into the office when no one was watching and leaned on the wall to wait for her to join him. She didn't keep him waiting long, and he was glad. 

She didn't have the door closed all the way before he backed her up against it, his hands in her hair and his mouth on hers. Ace gave a startled little squeak and he instantly began to push away, but she grabbed onto the battered, bloodstained flannel he still somehow wore and hauled him closer instead. 

Shane could handle closer. Frankly, there wasn't a close enough that he thought would really satisfy him tonight. 

In a mercury mood change, she shoved him back and planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him in the moonlight trickling in from the half-boarded window. "What the fuck, Dickhead? When were you going to tell me?" 

Shane blinked, shoving a hand through his hair as he tried to catch up with the lightening shift from sex to argument. "What the hell are you talkin' about, sweetheart?" 

"Oh, I imagine there's something you can think of that you might want to mention to me." 

Shane looked at her blankly, completely and utterly confused. She scoffed- shit, those Dixon genes ran true; it sounded just like her brother- and stalked toward him. He reached out a hand for her automatically and she batted it aside, reaching into his pants pocket instead and pulling out- 

He sighed when she held the bullet up in front of his nose, her eyes flashing with fury and shining with fear. "Daryl told you?" he said softly, reaching for her again. 

"Damn it, Shane." This time she let him, her fist closing over the bullet as she crumpled against his chest. "You should have. You should never have had the fucking thing in the first place." 

He gave a sharp laugh and threaded his fingers through her hair, working out tangles gently. "I told you already. If I lost you, I'd have to be put down. I'd lost you. I was workin' up the energy to handle it for everyone." 

"No," she snapped. She didn't move from his arms, but her finger drilled into his chest and he winced. "No. We said whatever it takes. That's what we say, hero, and you know how last call makes liars out of everyone! That wasn't the end. It was just last call. It's not the end unless- unless- unless you're holding my body in your arms, like this, and even then you wait. Cause I might-" 

He cut her off as she started to cry, his lips finding hers as he swiped tears from under her eyes. "Come on, Slugger. Don't do that." 

"We said whatever it takes. You have to believe- if we ever get separated like that again, you have to believe I'm doing whatever takes. Promise me, Shane," she demanded. 

He thought about putting that bullet in the chamber one night. About the cold barrel of the gun on his skin. If he'd pulled the trigger-

He shivered and pulled her closer. "Fine. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I promise." 

She huffed out a breath and kissed him hard. "Damn right. I'm keeping this. Yes, I know you have others. So do I. I'm keeping it." 

"Fine with me. You're here, and I'm not losing you again. Don't need it," he promised, rash like so many promises he'd made her that he couldn't keep. "You're not leaving my arms again, Slugger. Never."

She laughed, sliding the bullet into her jeans pocket as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. "You're an idiot. You know that's not how it's gonna be." 

"Naw. I mean it. Never again," he said, just to watch the smile come back over her lips and the dancing light return to those eyes. 

He kissed her again, drawing her in with a hand on her cheek and the other on her elbow. Goddamn, he loved this woman. He loved her eyes, and her temper, and the way her lips felt on his. He loved the way her breath hitched and caught in her throat as he trailed his fingers down her neck, and the way she grabbed at his belt loops and pulled him tight to her. 

He loved the way she whispered his name against his lips and how her hair felt in his hands, and, God help him, Shane would have done anything, anything she asked of him. He'd promise her the whole fucking world and he'd spend his last breath making sure he laid it at her feet. 

"Shane," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his and her fingers over his lips so he'd stop kissing her and listen. "Shane. I thought-" 

"I know." He took her hand in his and kissed each fingertip, then her palm, then the inside of her wrist. She shivered and whispered his name again, and he pressed her hand to his cheek. "I'm here. I'm here, and so are you. It's a damn miracle, sweetheart. Just like you walkin' into the camp in Atlanta, just like the night Rick said 'wanna get a beer' and we drove to some spot two hours away that he'd heard about from the right person- and there you were. Decking some drunk bastard who thought he was tough shit." 

She laughed and Shane did too. He traced his fingertips over her lips, swept them across her cheek, and drew them down her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed and he smiled, loving how he could still make her tremble with a touch. 

She slid her hands under his shirt, cold against his skin, and he was the one trembling as she traced his back and stomach lazily. He clenched his jaw and drew in a sharp breath when she slipped her hand down to grab his ass, rolling his eyes as she laughed at his reaction. 

"That how it is, girl? You laughin' at what you do to me now?" Shane picked her up and dropped to the floor, her hands tightening onto his shirt even as she wrapped her legs around him and gave a half-yelp. "Hush. Gotta be quiet, both your damn brothers are out there." 

"Do me a favor and don't talk about my brothers right now, ok?" she mumbled, nose wrinkling, and Shane grinned. 

He laid her back along the floor, her legs still wrapped around him, and pressed a line of kisses down her stomach. She arched into him with her hand tangled in his hair, gasping when he used his teeth to pull her shirt up. He ran his tongue over the little goddamn stone in her navel, the cool metal a sharp contrast with soft, warm flesh driving him as insane now as it did every damn time. 

He stripped the flannel off his shoulders and balled it up, tucking it under her head as she gave him that soft, delighted smile that reminded him how little goddamn romance he'd been able to give this woman. She tugged insistently at his tee shirt as well, and Shane pulled it over his head and tossed it out of his way so he could kiss her some more, his hands in her hair and hers gliding over his body. 

It wasn't enough. He wanted her skin against his; he wanted her as close as she could get, her breath hitching and trembling on his name. He wanted to feel her come apart under his hands; his and his alone, because he'd lost her. He'd lost her, and now he had her back and he needed her. Fucking hell, he needed her. 

He pulled her shirt off with a desperate snarl and she moaned as he claimed her breast with his mouth, the sound racing through him like fire in his blood. He fumbled for her jeans, and she tugged on his hair until he was kissing her again, clumsy and urgent and wild, her fingers digging into his shoulders, his arms, his back. He didn't know how he managed to finally get the goddamn jeans out of the way, but somehow he did. 

Her hips rose up to meet him when he slid inside her, and he shook his head. He pressed her back down against the ground, staring into her eyes and willing her to see. To understand. "Let me," was all he managed to get out, and she nodded. 

Shane twinned his fingers with hers, tangled his other hand in her hair, and lost himself in her.


	34. Lie #34: "One Crazy Woman With A Blade Is Enough, Don't You Think?" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
character death (canon)

Someone pounded on the door and flung it open before Shane had time to do more than groggily lift his head from the floor. Ace groaned, curling up tighter against him, as Shane blinked in the sudden flare of candlelight. 

"Found 'em!" Merle yelled over his shoulder, tone grim and lacking any of the teasing asshole comments Shane expected, considering he had only tugged on his jeans and Ace had confiscated his shirt before they fell asleep. "Get up, get dressed. Got us a problem." 

Merle was gone as quickly as he'd come in, and Shane scrubbed a hand over his eyes as he tried to turn his brain on. 

Ace was already shoving to her feet and gathering their scattered clothes, her expression worried as she did. "Something's happened. He would have commented, otherwise." 

Shane grabbed his shirt when she peeled it over her head and tossed it his way to replace it with her own. He stuffed his feet into his boots and bent for their pile of weapons while she laced on the battered Converse she refused to part with. She was right. He knew it and so did she. 

Couldn't they have one night? Just one? 

He caught her hand as she headed toward the door. "Slugger." 

Her smile was soft and sweet as she squeezed his hand. "I know. I love you, too." 

The church was grim and silent, their people no longer eating and celebrating. Ace stopped a few steps from the doorway, head turning as she did a slow scan. "What's wrong?" 

Merle and Abraham were on either side of the doors, guns drawn. Merle glanced over at her, then went back to looking through a crack in the doors. 

"We've got people missin'. Thought you two was among the numbers for a minute," Merle said. 

Shane had never heard that tone from Merle before, even when the shit really hit the fan, and he started doing a head count of his own as Ace sucked in a breath. He touched her back in reassurance, his eyes finding Judy in Carl's arms right away. 

But he didn't see Rick. Or Daryl, or Carol, or Sasha, or Tyreese, or Bob- how the hell? 

"Who's missing?" Ace asked. 

Her brother closed the door to the church and strode back up to her, clapping Abraham on the shoulder as he did. Shane felt lead pool in his stomach at the look on Merle's face, and he reached for Ace's hand. 

Merle looked his sister dead in the eyes and Shane heard her breathing go rapid and ragged. "It's gonna be aight, sis, ok? Rick, Sasha, and Tyreese are lookin' for 'em. But we cain't find Bob, or Miss Carol, or-" 

"Darrie," she said. "Daryl's missing." 

Merle nodded. "He is. But we're gonna find him. Ain't that right, pig?" 

Shane met Merle's hard eyes as he pulled Ace into a hug. "How long?" 

Shane grabbed for Ace when Sasha pulled her knife on the priest, demanding to know his part in all this. It wasn't that he disagreed with her. Priest knew something, and Shane wanted to know what it was. 

He just knew his girl's temper, and he could see it rising in her eyes as soon as the church doors opened and Rick, Tyreese, and Sasha came in without the others. 

"One crazy woman with a blade is enough, don't you think?" he whispered in Ace's ear when she tried to throw his hand off her arm. 

She shot him a glare and he lifted one eyebrow, waiting for her to get with the program. When Sasha started screaming at Gabriel, Ace finally nodded. Relieved, Shane went back to watching the fireworks and keeping one eye out the window. 

Rick pulled Sasha back as the priest babbled that he didn't have anything to do with this. Thing was, Shane believed him. On the other hand, man was hiding something, and now seemed as good a time as any to figure out what it was. 

"Why'd you bring us here? Who are you working with?" 

Gabriel stammered and panicked under the full intensity of Rick's stubborn-bastard look, and Shane scoffed and squinted out into the darkness. 

"What about the woman at the food bank, Gabriel? What did you do to her. 'You'll burn for this.' That was for you. Why?" Rick pressed. 

Damn, the man was like a dog with a fucking bone, Shane thought. And he had missed watching his brother work. Rick snatched Gabriel by the shirt collar and Shane almost stopped him, 'cause pounding on a priest in church seemed like one of those things they should probably steer clear of, just in case. Then again, he and Ace had just been up to some unholy things, too, so that ship had probably sailed. 

And the priest started talking anyway. "I lock the doors at night. I always lock the doors at night. I always- I always lock the doors at night. They started coming, my congregation. Atlanta was bombed the night before and they were scared." 

Shane remembered the helicopters, flying low over the grid locked highway; the sick churning in his stomach as he saw them dropping napalm and raining fire. Lori pressing her face in his shoulder as he watched the city burn and knew he was watching the whole damn world go up in flames with it. 

Damn right they were scared, he thought now. Ace fumbled for his hand and Shane held on, reminding himself that she'd made it out of there and somehow made it to him. 

"They were- they were looking for a safe place, a place where they felt safe. And it was so early. It was so early. And the doors were still locked. You see… it was my choice. There were so many of them, and they were trying to pry the shutters and banging on the sidings, screaming at me. And so the dead came for them. Women…. Children…." Gabriel's eyes lingered on Carl and Judith as Shane turned from the window to stare. "Entire families calling my name as they were torn apart, begging me for mercy. Begging me for mercy." 

Silence lay thick and heavy across the church as the priest began to blubber, and Ace broke it with a sneer. "You won't find any. Not from God, and certainly not from us." 

"I buried their bones. I buried it all. I'm damned. God sent you here to finally punish me," Gabriel babbled, sliding down to curl at the foot of the altar and sob. "I always lock the doors. I always lock the doors." 

Someone whistled outside the church. 

They'd hacked off Bob's leg. That was bad enough, Shane thought grimly as he paced in front of the doors, careful to stay away from the windows. But it got worse from there. 

They'd hacked off his leg and fucking eaten it. Eaten. It. 

Cannibals. 

Literally nothing that came before had prepared Shane for that one. Fucking zombies were easier to believe in. 

But Bob had no reason to lie, and much as Shane wanted to believe the man had been hallucinating that shit because of the walker bite he hadn't told anyone about, Shane knew he was telling the truth. He just- fucking cannibals. 

"Cannibals," he muttered to Merle. "Cannibals." 

"Some weird shit out there," Merle agreed grimly. "Gotta admit, I didn't see that 'un comin'." 

Shane snorted. "I'd have some questions for you if you had. Where the hell's your brother? And Carol?" 

"That would be the million dollar question, ain't it?" Merle looked back toward the front of the church where Ace sat next to Carl, holding Judith and listening to Bob tell Rick everything he'd learned from Gareth and the other Terminus survivors. Shane wanted to be up there with her; wanted to be holding her hand and helping Rick figure out what to do, but he couldn't settle. 

"Should have fuckin' razed the place," Shane muttered. "Just like the goddamn prison. I quit looking, leave the bastard alive, and someone we care about pays the price." 

"Get ya damn head outta ya ass. Whole fuckin' world ain't on ya shoulders, pig." Merle's voice was a weird mix of amused and concerned, and Shane shot his middle finger up at him. "Naw, ya ain't my type. Plus, little sis over there might object." 

Shane snorted out a laugh and rolled his eyes at Merle. 

"Time for a reality check. We all need to leave for DC right now," Abraham declared. Shane promptly stopped laughing. 

"My baby brother ain't here and you think ya goin' anywhere?" Merle screamed it inches from Abraham's face, nose to nose with the other man. Shane shoved a hand through his hair, seeing this going south real fast, and wondered just who was going to have to step in and stop the impending fight that everyone could see happening. 

He'd have elected Daryl, but Daryl was- in part at least- the cause of this. He shot a look at Rick, who had that cold look in his eyes and tilt to his head that said he was going to be about as useful in ending this as tits on a bull. Shane took a step forward. "Alright, you two, why don't you-" 

"Stay the fuck outta this, pig!" Merle snarled, stabbing a finger Shane's way. "We ain't goin' nowhere, and neither is he." 

"Oh, I damn sure am-" 

"Naw, ya damn sure ain't, you-" 

Shane saw Abraham's fist clench and muttered as he went for them, figuring he was going to take a swing or two, but that'd be better than those two assholes beating themselves bloody. He wasn't counting on Ace, though.

She shoved her way between them, back to her brother and glaring at the redheaded asshole. 

Right as he swung. 

Ace ducked the swing as Shane's mind went white, and Merle's outraged shout cut across Shane's own. Merle wrapped his arm around Ace and pulled her back, the look in his eyes promising death to his new buddy, but Shane's girl was made of sterner stuff these days than even Shane would have guessed. 

"Stop it!" she screamed. She was breathing hard, her eyes were wild, but she stood between them with her hands on her hips and surprisingly not at all near her knife. "Just- stop it! Merle, it was bad timing. Back off. You too, Dickhead," she added to Shane. 

He put the gun back in his holster reluctantly, eyes on Abraham. "He does it again, he's dead."

Abraham looked chagrined. "I was going for your asshole brother, honey. Sorry about that." 

"Whatever. My fault," she dismissed easily. "But we are not splitting up. They're out there, waiting for us. Give us twelve hours. We need your help." 

"Twelve hours," Abraham said slowly. 

"Twelve hours," Maggie echoed. "And if the others aren't back, Glenn and I will go with you." 

Shane stared at her blankly along with everyone else.

They made a big show of leaving, heading in the direction of the school where Bob said he'd been held while Gareth and his crew barbecued his leg. Then they crouched in the trees just outside the church and waited. 

It didn't take long, which was a blessing since Shane didn't think he'd last long knowing he'd left Carl, Judith, and Ace inside. Ace was the best protector his baby could have in there, and Tyreese with her, but the lump of fear weighed down his stomach like lead anyway as he fidgeted in the dark. 

They came from the trees and slid into the church single-file, and Shane smiled. 

"We know who's here. There's Bob, unless you've put him out of his misery already. Eugene. Rosita. Martin's good friend Tyreese. Carl. One of the two who blew up our home, Ace. Martin says hello. And…. Judith." 

Shane snarled, hatred for this cocky asshole rising even more as he listened to him talk. He looked at Rick, who held up a hand again for patience. Yeah, whatever, Shane thought grumpily. He knew the plan. 

"Rick and the rest walked out… With a lot of your guns. Listen we don't know where you all are, but this isn't a big place. So let's just stop this now, before things get more painful than they need to be." Gareth paused and Shane could have drilled a hole in the side of Rick's head with his gaze if he tried just a little bit harder. 

Rick nodded finally and they slipped through the open doors of the church together. 

Gareth ran his mouth some more, asking Gabriel to help them in exchange for his and Judy's lives. Shane kept his mouth shut and his steps quiet, sneaking with Rick and the others until Judy started to cry. 

"I don't know, maybe we'll keep the kid," Gareth declared. "I'm starting to like this girl." 

Shane's eyes narrowed dangerously. This bastard was not getting his fucking people-eating hands on Shane's daughter. Rick nodded, and Sasha took the first shot. 

"Put your guns on the floor," Rick said from the darkness. 

Shit, even Shane was scared of that tone. He didn't blame Gareth for immediately starting to babble, to try to talk his way out. Didn't stop Shane from pulling his gun and shooting the man's goddamn fingers off. 

Rick glanced at him as Gareth gasped and doubled over. Shane shrugged. Rick had claimed him for the kill, with that machete he held in his hands already, but that didn't mean Shane couldn't get a piece of him. 

"Put your guns on the floor and kneel," Rick repeated, and he and Shane came out of the darkness together. 

"It could have been us," Rick said when it was over. 

Shane was breathing hard, and he could feel something wet sliding down his face, but that bastard Martin lay dead at his feet. His face had already been bashed in by Tyreese, when Martin had gone after Shane and Rick's baby, but Shane had finished the job for him. Between him and Rick, he wasn't sure who was more bloody. 

Sasha and Michonne had done work as well, but somehow they managed to stay cleaner than he and Rick had. 

"Yeah," Shane agreed, clapping Rick on the back and ignoring the shocked, blankly appalled expressions on the faces of most of their people. "It could have been us. Ace!" 

She opened the door with Judith in her arm and a gun in her hand. Her eyes swept Shane's bloody face and then the church, tension only easing when she saw their people standing and the bodies on the floor. "Is it over?" 

"Yeah. It's over." 

She shoved the gun in her holster and handed Judith off to Carl. "Let's get you guys cleaned up then." 

Ace cleaned blood from his face while he stared at the cross hanging on the wall. He caught her hand when she turned to wring out the washcloth she'd found in the bathroom, and she paused. 

He leaned forward and pressed his head into her stomach. He'd beaten a man almost to death, then slit his throat. In a church. Despite Maggie's declaration that it was just a roof and four walls, and Shane's own lack of anything resembling real faith…. Well, Shane thought about monsters and he thought about men, and of the two of them, he had a feeling he knew which he was. 

"Whatever it takes, hero," Ace whispered softly. "We promised. Whatever it takes." 

Shane drew in a deep breath and nodded against her as her fingers combed through his hair. For her, yes. Whatever it took. 

He'd be the monster. 

Watching Maggie and Glenn and Tara ride off with Abraham was hard. They'd said they wouldn't split up again, and now here Shane was watching some of his people, his family that he'd adopted, leave again. 

He'd held Ace's hand a little tighter, just to remind himself she was still there. She was still there, and at the heart of it, Shane knew that was all that really mattered to him. 

Rick had a map spread on the hood of a truck and Shane leaned beside him when the bus was gone. Ace stood close together with her brother, worry for Dixon clear on her face as she talked quietly and scanned the trees. 

"Abraham marked the route. So we can follow them," Rick told him. 

Shane glanced down and bit his lip. "'The new world's gonna need Rick Grimes'? Shit, man. He wouldn't think that if he'd watched you rip a man's throat out with your teeth." 

Rick shot him an irritated look. "Really, asshole?" 

"I don't know, brother," Shane said with a shrug, trying not to crack a grin. Rick looked so fucking irritated, he couldn't resist. "That guy who got drunk and tried to beat the shit out of Chad Cooper in high school? New world probably doesn't need him either." 

"Chad grabbed Lori's ass!" Rick hissed, straightening and glaring at Shane. "And I was sixteen!" 

Shane bit the inside of his lip and fought to keep his expression solemn. "Still, man." 

Rick opened his mouth to respond, stabbing a finger hotly in Shane's direction, and he couldn't hold the expression anymore. He cracked up, and Rick's glare turned into an eye roll and a groan. "Jackass." 

"Gotta keep you humble," Shane said easily. He grabbed Rick's shoulder, knowing full well Rick was probably feeling the same torment about their actions last night that Shane was. He sobered and looked Rick in the eye. "Redheaded bastard is right. New world needs you. We all do." 

Rick scrubbed a hand over his face. "Go annoy someone else now," he muttered. 

Shane grinned again and headed back over to his girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok hello. I'm sorry. My only excuse is that @RhiKitti got me fixated on LoTR and the Hobbit and I'm distracted with mad Fili lust right now. 
> 
> Blame her.


	35. Lie #35: "It Is Not Fucking You, Dickhead" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
mentions of past child abuse

Hours passed and there was no sign of Daryl. You paced the church, weaving through the pews until Merle snapped that you were going to wear a hole in the carpet. You'd snarled something back that included calling him Myrtle and kept pacing. 

The others gave you wide berth after that, at least until Carl came over and handed you a package of crayons without a word. He backed away slowly and you glared down at them before shoving them irritably in your pocket. Two rounds of the church later, you pulled them back out again and narrowed your eyes at the white wall. 

“Father. I’m going to draw on your walls,” you called over your shoulder, not really a question or asking for permission. More informing him.

You pulled the black crayon and let what sounded like a muttered “told you so” fade into the back of your mind as you studied the smooth expanse of white. It wouldn't be blank much longer. 

"Ace. Come on, sweetheart, I don't wanna get decked, but I need you paying attention again." 

You blinked and scowled when Shane waved a hand in front of your face and your concentration shattered. "Damn it, I'm working!" 

"I know. But you're straining your eyes, you've been at it for about six straight hours, and it's time to eat something and get some rest. I need your head in this world." 

You ripped your eyes from the firework you were blending at the moment and tried to put almost blowing the cabin up with Daryl out of your mind. "What? No, it's been like two minutes." 

Shane rolled his eyes and pointed at the window, where- 

"Holy fuck," you muttered. "It's dark." 

"Put every candle I could find over here near you when you showed no signs of slowing down," he said, giving you that look of fond amusement you'd seen more than a few times when you got caught up in art. 

"She snap outta it, or ya risk the hit?" Merle drawled. 

You shot your brother a look, but he just winked at you. "I didn't swing at him." 

"Bet ya thought about it, though," he countered. 

"Did you two want something or what?"

Shane wrapped his arm around your shoulders and steered you away from the wall. "Come on, Slugger. Eat. Sleep. You're no good to Daryl without rest." 

You let him drag you toward where the rest of your people were gathered together, passing around cans and talking quietly. You leaned into his side, suddenly exhausted and realizing Shane had been right. Your eyes hurt like hell. 

The church doors slammed open and you jumped, turning with Shane and the others, hand going for your gun. Michonne came striding through, a smile on her face and- 

"Darrie!" You bolted for your brother down the middle aisle. 

"What the fuck were you thinking, running off in the middle of the goddamn night alone?" You were perilously close to screaming and you knew it, but you were just so fucking angry. Now that he was safe, your twin needed to answer for making you worry so goddamn badly. 

Especially since he'd run off with Carol, and returned with Noah. Noah was nice, and had brought the news that Beth was alive and in fucking Grady Memorial- you were not thinking about your face swollen up and your ribs pinching while stabbing a painfully young girl through her ear as she tried to eat your fucked-up face- along with a handful of others and a team of Atlanta's finest that had turned an odd mix of dark side and actually-trying-to-be-helpful. Noah was great. You liked him well enough. 

But he was neither Carol nor Beth and after burying Bob and watching Maggie, Glenn, and Tara ride away you were sick of losing the people you'd only just fucking found. 

"I's thinkin' I had to follow that fuckin' car and find Beth! And I weren't alone!" Daryl fired back, glaring at you from under shaggy bangs. "I had Carol." 

"Yes, and look how that turned out," you snapped back, rolling your eyes. "Fuckin' hell, Darletta, you've got to be-" 

"Aight now, you two shits," Merle cut in, and you rounded on your older brother as well. 

"Don't you start, Marlene. You're still on my shit list too!" 

"The fuck did I do?" Merle sounded genuinely bewildered, and as your temper flamed hotter you felt almost guilty. 

He hadn't done anything except suggest maybe you not pace for hours and growl at everyone, but you were mad, damn it. He'd probably fucking done something to deserve this. "You and Abraham were going to pound each other's faces in and we both know it!" 

That would do, you decided as Daryl's eyes narrowed and he looked at Merle. The three of you stood in a yelling knot, toe to toe and ignoring the others gathered around and watching. 

Then Shane spoke up from your elbow. "Slugger, I know you're pissed, but it was Beth. He didn't have any other options." 

"Oh fuck you, Shania," you flung out, disbelieving. "We all just found each other again, and I thought you assholes were all dead, and then he-" 

You hadn't intended to burst into tears, but it certainly didn't stop it from happening. You curled inward on yourself, hands over your eyes as a sob ripped through you and the waterworks started. 

"Oh, fuck," Merle swore viciously. 

You tried to stop it, holding up a hand and waving them off as you tried to say you were alright, but it wasn't working. Another sob had you giving up and trying to turn away from all three of them. 

"Shit. Move, Walsh, this one's my fault. Shoulda known she needed to fuckin' blubber. C'mere, sis." Your twin wrapped an arm around your shoulders and set his chin on the top of your head, and you flung your arms around him and held on tight. "That's it, just get it all out now. Shit. I'm sorry. Didn't wanna run off, but I had to. It's Beth, Ace." 

You sniffed and shook your head, not opening your eyes or letting go of him. "I know. And we'll go get them both, but you have to stop fucking scaring me. All three of you. Sorry I called you Darletta."

"Shit, been called worse," he muttered. "Hurt Shane's feeling's though, cause ya blubberin' on me and not him." 

"Shut up, asshole," Shane said disgustedly from behind you, and all the sudden the four of you were laughing.

A rescue mission was planned. No one even considered leaving Beth and Carol in Grady, and you'd have punched anyone in the face who did, all things considered. But you were down four of your own and two who'd been good backup- plus one smart as hell scientist- and there was Judith to think of. 

You were chewing on your lip and ignoring the fact that Daryl was pounding boards into the church wall and fucking up your crayon fireworks thing as you held a mental debate. Stay or go. Stay or go. 

Leaving Judith and Carl here meant leaving at least one someone behind to help them. Carl had agreed with surprisingly little argument, and honestly, that worried you with that kid. You remembered him being told, repeatedly, to stay in the house, in the camp, in the cells, and him doing the exact opposite of that. On the other hand, he loved his little sister, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to her. 

"Mad at him for it?" Shane asked, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and wrapping an arm around you from behind. 

You shook your head slightly to clear it and noticed most of you artwork was now covered to either side, with just the middle visible between the chunks of pews Daryl was using to block the windows. "What? The drawing? Hell no. It was shitty work anyway." 

"Sure," Shane said dryly. "I mean, not like it was done in crayon or anything. Roman candle, huh?" 

"Mmm," you agreed absently, still thinking about Judith and Beth and Carol. "When we were kids, Darrie and I damn near blew the cabin up being dumbasses. Merle came out and yelled at us, said some mean shit. He'd taken a bit of a beating the night before so we didn't hold it against him too much. He apologized later, and gave me our mom's ring. He'd stolen it, from the cops." 

Shane didn't say anything for a minute and you turned to him, brow furrowed, and started to speak, but he held up a hand. You paused and waited. 

"He stole your mom's ring from the cops?" 

"Yeah, after the fire. Mom died in town, where the cabin was. She took a lit cigarette to bed and set the place up when she passed out. Then we moved to the city, but Will kept the cabin. Merle lifted her ring from the fire, apparently, and kept it. Then when he told me and Daryl setting off bottle rockets and fireworks near a propane tank was a good way to get ourselves killed just like our mom, he felt bad and gave it to me." You lifted an eyebrow as Shane blinked and shook his head. "What?" 

"Just- you got some stories, Ace. Those of us who didn't live them sometimes need a minute to process," he said dryly. He leaned one hip against the back of a pew that hadn't yet been turned into lumber and grabbed your hands. "You should stay here. Guard Judith." 

Oh for shit's sake, you thought irritably. It didn't matter than you'd just been debating that very thing, hearing it from Shane annoyed you. Goddamn hero complex. What was all that shit about never leaving his side again? "Don't start, Dickhead." 

"I'm serious-" 

"I know you are," you interrupted. "And I know why you'd rather have me and her here, together, where you can worry about us collectively while you Galahad your way into saving Beth and Carol. Answer's no, though." 

He shoved a hand through his hair and glared. "Why the hell not?" 

"Because with Glenn gone, I know Atlanta better than any of you. And Daryl, Merle, and I, we fought our way out of Grady once. Come on, Shane, I'm a logical choice and you know it." Your voice softened at the end, and you touched his face. "Don't get all twisted up about it, hero." 

"Fine," he said after a heavy sigh. He kissed your palm and shoved back up from the pew. "Merle's staying behind. Michonne too. Everyone else is coming, except the priest." 

"Michonne and Merle? Jesus," you muttered. "Maybe we should leave someone else, just in case." 

Shane snorted. "That's what I said. They promised to play nice." 

"I think they're gonna bone." 

Shane started coughing, choking on air, and you bit the inside of your lip to keep from laughing. "Thanks for that, Slugger. That was a mental image I did not need." 

You tossed your bag up and onto the dumpster, then hooked your fingers into the chain link fence beside it and scrambled your way up. Goddamn it, you thought as you scooped up the bag again and jumped for the fire escape. This was not what you'd wanted to do with your evening. 

However, it was an occupational hazard, you supposed. And that wall had been highly illegal and highly worth it- if you could win the game of keep away you were playing with Officer Casey down there. 

You made it to the roof and peeked over the side, glad you had your beanie in place. Bright-ass neon green hair, a choice you were already regretting, would have stood out a little too much. Black beanie meant you could scoot into a shadow. 

Casey's flashlight swept the alley as he paused in the entrance. He didn't come down it, and you had a moment to wonder if Casey knew your work and had decided he liked you well enough to give you a break as he grabbed the radio on his shoulder and called in that he'd lost the suspect. 

"Ok," he yelled when he signed off. "I know you're in here somewhere. I'm going to stake that building out all damn night long. If you come back, I'm busting your ass. But I'm not risking my life heading down into this alley alone in the dark, just in case it's not who I think it is in here. Dixon, if it's you- just fucking stay away, ok? I don't want to put you in jail for five years." 

You grinned, but you had a flash of guilt over the risking his life comment. He would have been, coming down there alone and without backup, and you knew a particularly stubborn idiot with a hero complex who would have done just that. Officer Casey turned to head away and stopped, looking up at the roof and- you would have laid good money on this- directly at your shadowy hiding spot. 

"It looks good, Dixon. Gonna stir some people up, though." 

You couldn't help it. "That's the idea, Casey. Stay safe tonight. Get home to that wife and baby." 

"Goddamn it, Ace!" 

You kissed Judith, ruffled Carl's hair, and glared at your brother until he grinned and winked. Then you threw your arms around him with an order to be careful, keep the kids safe, and not annoy Michonne too damn much. 

You rode in silence, wedged between Rick and Shane in the front seat, and wondered if your little family would ever be safe again. 

Considering how much had happened between the last time you were there and now, it took a frighteningly short amount of time for the Atlanta skyline to appear, and even less for Rick to pull to a stop and inform you all that you'd go on foot from there. You slung the rifle Shane handed you over your shoulder as you scanned the buildings and waited for everyone to sort themselves and the packs out, and when Rick gave you a grim nod, you let out a breath and started up the street. 

Weirdly, it was good to be home. 

"Shit, sis," Daryl said mildly. 

You scowled and fidgeted, shifting on your feet as you scanned for walkers and did not look at the wall the rest of them were staring at. You could not believe it was in as good shape as it was, or that the best way to get from where you'd entered the city to where you needed to be came right through here. Honestly, you'd forgotten all about the goddamn thing, or you might have picked another route. 

"Told you," Shane said mildly. 

"It is not fucking you, Dickhead!" you snapped, annoyed. "Can we please move on? It's a social commentary on-" 

"No," Tyreese cut in, drawing the word out in a way that told you clearly he was trying to hide his amusement. "It might be social commentary, but Ace, that is Shane." 

"Oh yeah," Rick agreed. "Which is what I told him when he sent me the picture. And what I said when he bitched about it in person. You were pissed, weren't you?" 

You sighed and studied the zombie cop mural that would apparently plague you for the rest of your days. You supposed, if you squinted, it might look like Shane. But you sure as fuck weren't telling any of them that. "Yes, I was. I was pissed that Atlanta PD was in the middle of its fourth corruption case in two years. I was pissed that America in general was heading toward a totalitarian state. I was pissed that the Governor's office-" 

"Ya were pissed that ya fuckin' cop said what ya didn't wanna hear and that you'd been a bitch to him about it," Daryl put in mildly. "If I'd seen a fucking picture of him before ya landed in the hospital and then seen this, I'd have called him myself." 

Shane snorted as you leveled your twin with a glare. "Damn it, Darrie. Come on, people. Let's just go already. Can't believe that thing survived," you muttered as you stalked down the road. 

"Cain't believe Grady's still standing," Daryl said, squinting at the hospital in the distance. 

You grimaced in agreement. "What with how overrun every damn floor was, I'm surprised too. Cops must have done some serious work to get it cleared out as much as Noah says. Not surprised the lower floors are still swamped though."

"You do know us pigs are good for something, right sweetheart? Come on now, Rick's got a plan." 

You glanced over at Shane and he rolled his eyes at you, but there was pinched worry in his face as he looked at the hospital. He and Daryl had gotten out with Beth; they both said she'd kept them sane. Kept them moving and given them purpose on the road. 

Your fingers brushed the bullet in your pocket that you'd confiscated from Shane. You owed her, you thought. You owed her everything. 

"We'll get her," you told your Dickhead. "We will. Rick's got a plan, and Rick can do anything, right?" 

Rick was crouched on the floor as you said that, and he looked up with an irritated expression. "You telling her that shit? Thought that would have been laid to rest by now." 

Shane shrugged. "Well, brother, you've been performing miracles since the end of the world, so I don't expect you to stop any time soon. Come on, what you got?" 

"At sundown, we fire a shot into the air. Get two of them out on patrol. Then once it's dark enough that the rooftop spotter won't see us, we go. We cut the locks on one of the stairways, take it to the fifth floor. I open the door, Daryl takes the guard out." Rick pointed at the crude- very, very crude- map he'd sketched onto the floor in the dirt as he talked, and you had some serious questions about his tactical skills before all this. 

"How?" Tyreese asked. 

You wondered, as you had at the church, how bad of an idea bringing Tyreese and Sasha along was. Sasha had just buried Bob, and you knew from personal experience how much of a lose cannon that made her. And the big man, for all the bonding you'd done on the road, was still very much a mystery to you. Sometimes he was full of rage and violence, and sometimes he seemed frightened of what your little band of survivors could do to stay alive- like taking out the rest of the Terminus crew in the church. 

Shane shrugged. "He slits his throat. Next problem?" 

"They're not expecting us. From there we fan out. Knives and silenced weapons. We need to be fast and quiet," Rick urged. "Sasha, Tyreese, you'll take these two. Ace, you're roving." 

"Ace is with me, brother," Shane said grimly, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. "She and I will take the kitchen. Daryl, you stay on Rick's ass." 

"Excuse me, I thought I was the one planning," Rick muttered, but he didn't argue. "Daryl and I will take Dawn then. If they're smart, the rest of them will give up. We'll have the odds, even more once we get a weapon to Beth," Rick continued. 

"The wards will help," Noah added grimly. 

You bet they would. Indentured servitude while they worked off the resources used to save them- and used more resources in the mean time- was no one's idea of a good time. Add in what Noah had said about some of the officers not taking no for an answer, and well. Your opinion of Atlanta's finest was fairly low right now. Shane's and Rick's too, from the look of it. You'd been treated to a rant in the truck about upholding the badge, both of them bothered by Noah's stories and hot about it. 

"That's the best case. What's the worst case?" Tyreese asked. 

It wasn't like it was an unreasonable question. It was that by the way he said it, you knew he was still in one of his anti-killing modes, instead of the rage-lead killing machine he'd been when you were trying to get medication to save your people's lives. Honestly, you weren't sure which was worse, because either way, he was unpredictable. 

He glanced around at all of you and shrugged. "All it takes is one of those cops going down the hall at the wrong time. Then it's not quiet. All hands on deck." 

"If that's what it takes," Sasha said, sounding utterly unconcerned with the whole thing. 

Tyreese sent her an irritated look. "It's not. If we get a couple of her cops, alive, out here, we do an even trade. Theirs for ours, everybody goes home alive." 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. "That might work. This will work," he said, gesturing to Rick's map as Rick rose. 

"Walsh," Daryl said slowly, and you looked over to find him chewing on his fingernail. "This'll work too. You say this Dawn, she's just tryin' to keep everything together?" 

Noah shrugged. "Trying and doing are two different things." 

"Take two of her cops away, what choice does she have? Everybody goes home. Let's do it like he says," Daryl said after a minute. He glanced over at Shane and you saw something in your brother's eyes. "She'd want it that way." 

Shane groaned. "Fucking thank you note. Rick, he's right. I mean, we go in there ready to raise hell if shit goes south, but we try it the less lethal way first. It's- goddamn it- the right thing to do."

He sounded so disgusted with that you had to bite you lip to keep from grinning. Rick looked annoyed but shrugged. 

"Ok. So if we want hostages, we'll need bait and a trap. Noah, you're the bait. Ace-" 

"I know the city. Tell me what you need; I'll give you a location," you agreed. 

"You ok, sweetheart?" Shane asked. 

The others were busy debating the pros and cons of who would be where for what, and you'd wandered over to lean on the windows and look out at the city. You couldn't believe you were home, and looking out at Atlanta made it so much worse. The city was dead. Urban Decay, you thought tiredly. 

You missed cars and lights and honking horns. People spilling over the sidewalks, in and out of buildings and moving through their lives. You missed running from cops with a bag of paint in your hands; working on a wall in plain view and having people stop to stare and ask questions and try to leave you tips; loud music blasting from the stage in the Whisky Lullaby and being elbows deep in bar orders and loving every minute of it. 

You missed living. Not surviving. 

You missed your friends. It was no small miracle that you'd found Shane, and it was all because he was who he was. Tough, capable, violent and caring at the same time, he was one of those people that when the shit inevitably hit, you knew he'd come out if not on top, at least on the winning team. 

But Jason? Ellie and Ben, Julie and her little girl, your staff and regulars. Maria. They weren't like that, and they didn't have redneck older brothers with more determination than sense to come haul them out of Atlanta. 

Shane's lips pressed against the side of your neck and you leaned back into his arms with a sigh. "I wish I could find everyone. Check on them." 

Shane hesitated, his chin on your shoulder. "Slugger…" 

"I know. I know, ok? I watched the napalm. The Lullaby is probably gone, and so are they. But I just- I miss it. I miss life, Shane. Real life. And I wish we'd- we'd had the opportunity to really live. Like this," you said, stroking a hand down his arm. "I wish I hadn't been a dumbass and had told you what was going on. I wish I'd taken help when it was offered. I wish I'd been smart enough to not take Mal back, after that night with you, and we could have seen what might have happened when you came back." 

He laughed lightly, tightening his arms around you. "We'd have gone back to your place and had sex in your shower again. That's what would have happened. But I'd have left you my number that time." 

"You fucking better have," you agreed pleasantly, turning so you could smile at him. "I don't know, hero. Just hope Eugene fixes the world. I want a do over. I want to go back and get it right. Probably have to stop painting walls I'm not hired to paint, if I started shacking up with a cop and all." 

He groaned. "Can you please not call it shacking up? Jesus, Ace, it's more than that and you know it." 

"Shacking up, friends who occasionally fuck- you sure have a problem with the way I talk, don't you? I thought you were more casual than this, Walsh," you teased. "When'd you get all sloppy and sentimental about shit?" 

He kissed you, slow and sweet and gentle, and you leaned into it with a sigh. "When it was you," he whispered against your lips. "We'll have a chance to live. No do over, but a chance to do it right. Eugene'll put the world back, and we'll make a home. Promise." 

That sounded damn good to you, you decided, leaning against his chest and going back to watching Atlanta. Damn good.


	36. Lie #36: "I'm A Perfect Little Law Abiding Citizen And You Know It" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
references to past child abuse  
major character death (canon)

You hadn't thought you'd find yourself watching a police car chase someone down in Atlanta again, but here you were. Rick and Shane had nodded approval of your suggested location, and your people were tucked away out of sight in hidden corners along the alley. Shane had argued for you to stay back, in the warehouse, until even Daryl had shot him a disgusted look and told him to give it up already. 

Now you watched as Noah did exactly as you'd planned, and coming up fast behind him was an Atlanta PD cruiser. Shane shook his head when the driver clipped Noah with the front end of the car, springing out of the driver's seat before he could get to his feet. 

"Put it down, Noah," she ordered, and your eyes narrowed. That voice sounded familiar. 

"Put the gun down," her partner echoed. 

Noah did as directed, and the woman kept her gun trained on him while her partner snapped on a pair a flex cuffs. 

"I thought you were smart, Noah. You think we wouldn't hear you?" she asked. The voice finally clicked, a dim memory triggered by her words. 

You think you're smart, Dixon? You've been busted more times than I can count. Why aren't we arresting her, Casey? 

Because she's unarmed, Sheppard. She doesn't have any of her gear on her, and she's not at the scene. Can't prove it was her.

Of course it wasn't me, Casey. I'm a perfect little law-abiding citizen and you know it. I only paint things I'm paid to paint.

You stepped out of the shadows when Shane tapped your shoulder, the others filtering out of their hiding places silently as well. Rick and Shane took the lead, and you dropped back to cover them and keep an eye on the rear. 

"Where are those rotters you were shooting at?" Sheppard's partner asked, and Rick whistled. 

"Hands," Shane ordered. You blinked, hearing his cop voice come out for the first time in far too long. He and Rick had almost transformed before your eyes, and you itched to draw this scene just as it was. Two officers in full uniform squared off with two dirty, ragged looking men, both of whom somehow managed to exude more authority than the uniformed cops. 

You’d make it a comic- all bright colors and slashing lines.

"What do you want?" Sheppard snapped, her gun held two handed, but with her elbows locked. 

Sloppy, you thought absently, and wondered when you'd started to care about things like that. "Officer Sheppard. Put the gun down," you said, stepping closer to Shane's shoulder. "You're out-numbered." 

She squinted at you, her head tilting to the side. Her mouth dropped open when she recognized you. "Dixon? How the hell-"

Shane shifted when she did, and Rick's voice cut across her at the same time. "You do what we say, we don't hurt you. Now turn around." 

"Put your guns on the ground and kneel," Shane added. The two of them moved forward in lockstep as the officers did what Rick said. Sheppard looked like she'd seen a damn ghost, and as Tyreese cut the flex-cuffs from Noah you circled around closer. Shane shot you an irritated look, but he already had her cuffed. What was she going to do to you? 

"We need to talk," Rick said, and you bent and grabbed her gun. "There's water if you need some, and food." 

"Mind if I ask you something?" Daryl had the man by the arm, but he turned and glanced from you and Shane to Rick. Rick shrugged. "The way you two talk. The way you carry yourselves. Were you cops?" 

Shane didn't say anything, and you rested your chin on his shoulder. Rick tilted his head and stared at the man, and you had to give Rick props. He really could stare right through someone. 

"Believe it or not, I was too," the man said. 

"That's Lamson. He'll be down for this. He's one of the good ones," Noah said quietly. 

A car came out of nowhere and Shane shoved you aside while the others started shooting. 

"Goddamn it, hero!" you snapped, swinging your rifle around as you tried to get a clear shot. Bullets were flying from your side and from the driver of the vehicle, and Shane grabbed your arm and pulled you back behind the dumpster. 

Since a shot winged by and shattered the brick just to your left, you decided you weren't going to argue with him about that one. You managed to return fire, taking one knee as Shane rose to aim over your head. You thought you might have hit the tire, but the car peeled away anyway, both of your hostages inside. 

A white cross covered the back windshield, and Shane and Daryl had matching grim faces you didn't like seeing. 

All of you chased the car. What else were you going to do? You needed hostages, and if those three got away, you'd blown your element of surprise completely. 

You weren’t likely to forget, ever, the sight of the burned out FEMA shelter, ‘evac here’ spray painted on the water tower above. Or the smell of the walkers adhered to the pavement, melted into place like half-used candles that reached out, begging for nourishment as you weaved through them.

Rick spotted your two, Lamson and Sheppard, trying to escape with their hands still behind their backs. With six of you on their trail, it didn’t take long to run them down. Shane had Sheppard by the arm again, annoyed and irritated, when you realized Daryl wasn’t with you. 

Your brother, flat on his back with walkers perilously close to him on either side, arms flailing for something, anything he could use as a weapon while some asshole choked him- there was something you’d never forget either. For a moment the scars on your back burned like they were fresh, and the man with his knee on your twins chest had Will’s face and Will’s big, meaty hands, and you didn’t think. You just reacted. 

Daryl shoved his fingers through a walker’s eye sockets, ripped the things head clean off its neck, and slammed the dead bastards head into the face of the bastard who wasn’t quite dead enough. His grip on Daryl’s neck broke as his head snapped to the side, Daryl sucked in a deep, gasping breath, and your gun slammed into the fucker’s head and sent him falling backward. 

You stepped between him and Daryl, gun trained and eyes hard, daring the motherfucker to make a move when he scrambled to his feet.   
His hands raised, he held your eyes and smiled. 

“Ok. You win, sweetheart.” 

“She’s not your sweetheart,” Rick’s voice came deadly cold from behind you, but you didn’t move. Didn’t lower the gun. Didn’t blink. 

The cop swallowed hard, shifted like he might try to speak again, and looked over your shoulder. “You win.” 

You pulled the hammer back. He’d had his hands on your brother. He’d been damn close to killing him. And you were a hell of a lot tougher these days than you were the last time someone had been choking your brother out.

“Sis,” Daryl said softly. He pushed the gun down as you glared at him, then leaned in and kissed your cheek. “I’m alright. Three’s better’n two.” 

You thought about doing it anyway. Choices, choices, you thought. Take out the current threat, or make a play for the bigger one? 

You shoved your gun in your holster and walked away without a word.

Your hands were still shaking at how fucking close you'd just come to losing your brother- again, goddamn it- as you headed back into the warehouse you'd made command central for this rescue mission. Shane shot you a look, mouthing 'ok, Slugger?' at you as you wandered off toward the windows to take a minute. You waved him off with a nod and an eye roll, then leaned against the panes and stared at the colors coming through them. 

You'd do this in oil, you decided. The green and blue outside the dirty panes came through hazy and swirled, bright sunlight and a slight breeze shifting the colors into impressionist swirls. The cracks and chips and dirt and the run-down industrial windows, with Rick Grimes and his Python in hand standing outlined- you could see it, could shape it in your mind in layer upon layer of vivid color and texture. Now, if you could just have the time, space, and supplies to create it. 

You tuned out the others as Sheppard tried to talk you out of the exchange and Lamson tried to talk you into it. When the third man spoke up in favor of the plan, you knew it was on. Rick, Shane, and Daryl converged on you and you raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you, boys?" 

"You ok?" Shane asked immediately. 

You shot him a dry look. "Daryl was the one on the ground, not me." 

"Yeah, well. I'm aight," your brother muttered. He squeezed your hand and lifted the corner of his mouth in a slight grin. "Need to blubber, ya know where I am." 

"Bite me," you told him pleasantly. "Your throat ok?" 

He nodded, face serious as the other two looked at him as well. "Mean it; I'm fine. We gonna make the exchange?" 

Rick sighed and set his fingertips against his forehead like he was getting a headache. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. We need a place. Good sight lines, open, but still places for snipers. And nearby. Within radio range of the hospital." 

You smiled. "I've got you covered." You shot a sly look between Shane and Rick, Shane now fiddling with one of the radios they'd pulled from your hostages. "You two are in nerd heaven again, aren't you?" 

"Shut up, Slugger," Shane said without even looking up, and you grinned. 

You dropped to a crouch in front of your hostages, water bottle in your hand. Sheppard stared at you when you lifted it in question. 

"How are you here?" she asked incredulously. 

You smiled slightly. "Condensed version, my brothers got me out of Grady at the start, then Shane and Rick over there kept us alive."

"You were in Grady? How did you get out? Grady went down fast." 

Since Sheppard didn't seem to want it, you offered the water to Lamson instead. "We fought our way out. I'm actually impressed you managed to take the place back. It was bad," you admitted. "Listen. I knew a cop; a good man. Arrested me a few times. Casey. Is he…" 

You trailed off at the look on Sheppard's face. So he was dead, then. Goddamn it. "Oh," you said simply. 

"Casey? Is that-" 

Licari, the asshole who'd been choking your brother, stopped talking abruptly. Your eyes narrowed as you glanced at him and then back at Lamson and Sheppard. "What? What about him?" 

"He was killed. He sided with Captain Hanson, Dawn's predecessor, and when she took over, both Hanson and Casey ended up dead," Licari said bluntly. 

"Shut up, man," Lamson snapped. He looked at you and sighed. "Casey was a good man. Helped get the hospital under control. Even after- even after his wife and kid couldn't be found, he just wanted to help people." 

You weren't an idiot. You knew Licardi wanted to find a weakness he could exploit; maybe get you to do something stupid. And Lamson had been the reasonable one, the one who said it would work when Sheppard said it wouldn't. You knew manipulation when it looked you in the face, earnestly sincere or brutal. 

It didn't mean they were lying, though. 

You offered Licardi the water silently, then rose and walked away without asking any more questions. 

Rick and Shane were talking to Lamson when you got back from scouting your location choice. Shane's eyes found you immediately and you gave him a small smile. You figured the tear tracks on your cheeks were still visible when Rick tilted his head and his eyes narrowed. 

You leaned into Shane's side and shook your head. "I'm fine, Rick. Place looks good. We should be set to go in ten minutes." 

Rick nodded. They'd separated the hostages while you were out scouting, so it was only Lamson they were talking to. "You need anything before we leave?" 

"Some water would be nice," Lamson said slowly. Sasha was sorting supplies nearby and Rick glanced at her. She nodded acknowledgement as Lamson continued. "I meant what I said. I'm sorry about your friend. He was a good cop. A good man." 

"What are you talkin' about?" Shane asked, his arm around you tightening. 

You swallowed hard around the lump that had returned. "Casey. He's dead. From what Licardi was saying, Dawn killed him." 

"Officer Casey? Who arrested you all the time?" 

Lamson shook his head, jaw tight. "Look, Licardi- Licardi was trying to get a rise from you. He shouldn't have said it like that. The rumors that Casey was killed are just that- rumors. He was on Captain Hansen's side, but he got hurt on patrol. We treated him when he came back, but he never recovered." 

"Who was his partner?" Rick asked. "On patrol?" 

Lamson licked his lips and looked down. "Dawn." 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly. "Come on, you two. Got things to do. Listen… You're still a cop." 

The last was directed at Lamson, and you and Shane paused. Lamson leaned his head back against the beam and sighed. "No. No, the real ones are all gone." 

As usual, things went to shit about ten minutes later. Lamson managed to knock Sasha out and escape, and Rick and Shane chased him down in a patrol car. Later, Shane told you it was a blast from the past, and for a minute he felt like a cop again. 

Then they hit him with the car, breaking his back, and Rick shot him in the head.

Sheppard an Licardi lied their asses off, a little too convincingly for your taste, about seeing him get taken out by walkers. After some whispered debate and a stubborn look in Daryl’s eyes that had you sighing and knowing what was inevitable, the consensus was to keep going with the hostage exchange plan. 

Rick set up the exchange, the rest of you strung around in sniper positions. Shane muttered under his breath about not being down there the whole time, and when he took out the lone walker and Rick didn't even twitch, you were starting to think the two of them had some form of telepathy you didn't share and would never understand. 

Apparently Dawn agreed to it, because Rick picked up his gun and flashed a hand signal, and Shane whistled to everyone else. "Alright. Let's do this." 

"Shane." 

He slung his gun to his back and glanced at you. "Yeah?"

"You're a real cop. Still," you said after a beat. You knew your Dickhead well enough to know that comment would have stuck with him, and from the way he scoffed and shoved a hand through his hair, you figured you were right. 

"Eh. Don't matter. No such thing as cops in this world, sweetheart. I'm sorry about Casey." 

You leaned against Shane's shoulder while you waited for the others to converge on you, and decided this wasn’t the time to call him on that lie. "Me too. We're gonna get them back. And I know this is an everybody-lives operation, but if we can make an exception for Dawn, I say we do it." 

He laughed, rubbing your back. "Ok. I'll see what I can arrange." 

Carol was in a wheelchair, and holy hell were you having flashbacks as Daryl exchanged Licardi for her and wheeled her over. You met Carol's eyes and smiled at her, but you stayed tucked in the back of the pack and kept an eye on your exit. Things were going almost too well, you thought as Rick took Sheppard down the hallway and Dawn grabbed Beth by the arm. 

"Glad we could work things out," Dawn said. 

Daryl and Shane both reached for Beth, all of you turning to go, and you grabbed Carol's wheelchair. 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. 

For a split second, it seemed like everything would be fine. Then Dawn's voice came again. 

"Now I just need Noah." 

When it happened, it was a flash. A split second of bad choices, and you watched from too far away to do anything. Carol rose from the wheelchair and grabbed your arm, and you clutched at her as the gunshot echoed and Beth fell. 

Blood sprayed the wall; fluorescent light flashed off the silver handles of the scissors Beth had plunged into Dawn's neck; and her lips moved as she said something, eyes wide and pleading with all of you. 

Rick swiped at his eyes, and you knew it was Beth's blood that had sprayed his face. 

Daryl moved first, ripping his gun from his waistband and popping Dawn right between the eyes, and the world snapped back in a flash as the officers on the other side drew. Your gun was in your hand, you had Licardi in your sights, and- 

"Hold your fire!" Sheppard yelled, arms spread to hold the cops back. "It's over. It was just about her. Stand down." 

Weapons dropped all around, except for yours. Yours, and Shane's. Even as Daryl started to cry and Carol wrapped an arm around him, you considered pulling the trigger, and you knew he did too. 

"You could stay. We're surviving here," Sheppard said. 

Rick's voice sounded as shocked and broken as you felt. "No. And I'm taking anyone who wants to leave with us."

You walked out of Grady Memorial for the second time, clinging to Shane's hand and gripping Daryl's shoulder. 

Maggie screamed as she fell to her knees.


	37. Lie #37: "Not One Of You Dixons Is A Close-Mouthed Son of A Bitch Or Anything." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence  
mentions of past suicidal thoughts  
mentions of past domestic abuse  
mentions of past child abuse  
major character death (canon)

Maggie cried herself to sleep every night. 

That was the worst part, Shane thought as he lay with Ace's body warm against his side, her toes shoved up under his knee, and tried to block the muffled sound out completely. They'd come five hundred miles of walker-infested southern highways and backroads, endless hours in cars, searching cars, siphoning fuel, and scavenging along the way. Shane honestly wasn't sure how long they'd been on the road or how they'd done it. 

They were all grieving. Maggie had cried, on the ground and leaning against Glenn, until the last shovelful of dirt was placed over Beth. Then she'd swiped at her cheeks, climbed to her feet, and looked at Rick. "So where are we going?" 

They were bringing Noah back home. Beth had said they'd help him, and he'd helped Beth. He had a community, near Richmond, and they'd reach it tomorrow. Twenty people, houses, walls- including Noah's mom and twin brothers. If it was still there, if it was still secure, they'd be off the road again. 

Despite his promise to Ace in Atlanta, Shane wasn't sure that was ever going to be possible anymore. He'd privately started to wonder if this was all life was going to be- campfires, watch postings, sucking old gas from vehicles and stealing food and clothes from the dead. Hard ground to sleep on, and loss. 

Eugene had lied. He'd said he could fix the world, and he'd done it with such conviction back in that fucking train car that Shane had believed him. He'd believed the world could be fixed; that someone up there in Washington had the means and methods to take out all the dead in one fell swoop. Civilization would be restored, and hell, maybe the human race would make it a little further without destroying their planet, what with most of the population having been decimated. Restoration wouldn't be fast; but it hadn't been that long since everything went to shit, honestly. This wasn't the long-decayed remains of a dead society. It could be done. 

But Eugene had lied. He was just someone who knew some things, and one of the things he'd known was that he couldn't survive on his own. He was, in his own words, a coward. He'd latched on to Abraham and Abraham had latched right back, and they'd brought Rosita along with them. 

Shane wondered privately why the self-professed coward was alive and Beth wasn't. 

He should have been fucked up. He should have been doing some crying, like Maggie. Maybe playing with a single bullet in his pocket again. 

Maggie and Glenn were devastated. Carol had a shadow in her eyes; Noah looked downcast and worn. Dixon was- 

Shit, Daryl was the worst of them. He barely spoke and when he did it was to snarl and shove people away. He helped; he fought; he scavenged; he did everything like normal- he just did it without a word, jaw set and eyes hard. He snapped at his brother and even at Ace, until Shane had been ready to go a couple more rounds with him. Ace had shot Shane a look and waved him off, but Shane's irritation had lingered. 

He got it. Beth was- Beth had kept him alive. He'd been so far gone; ready to take out himself and as many walkers as could go down with him. He'd been as ill-tempered and miserable as Daryl was right now, and Beth had dealt with them both and given them that small spark of hope. 

And she'd gotten her brains blown out for it. 

Ace had said she wanted Dawn dead, and Shane's only comfort was that Daryl had handled that. Shane should have been paying more attention. He should have known that Beth was up to something when she went to hug Noah. She had that look in her eyes, the same one she'd gotten when she yelled at him and Daryl to stop fighting in that clubhouse, bottle of peach schnapps raining broken glass at their feet. 

He should have known. He should have stopped her. 

Ace shifted, her toes digging into his knee further, and he could hear Judith make a fussy, unhappy noise. Carl's voice murmured incomprehensibly to her, and Maggie had finally dropped off to sleep. Shane tangled his fingers in Ace's hair and closed his eyes again, wondering if the fact that he was happy right now, despite missing Beth and them being on the run and the world being in shambles still, made him a bad person. 

"We need to take enough people to be taken seriously, but not enough to be a threat," Rick said the next morning. He and Shane were bent over the map, trying to finalize their plans and pick the best route and backup route to cover the last ten miles to Noah's community. 

Shane nodded. They'd talked about all this before, and he knew Rick wanted him along. But Ace had Judith in her arms and was laughing with Carl over something, and Shane couldn't do it. He couldn't leave them again, and he knew Ace wouldn't come. Daryl wasn't going, since he was on grouch patrol, and Ace would stay to keep an eye on her brother. 

As he watched, Daryl came stalking through camp, slinging his crossbow up over his shoulder and glaring at the world. Ace grabbed his hand as he walked by her, and Shane tensed when he jerked and whirled. Ace didn't look in the least phased by it, simply holding her twin's eyes until Daryl's scowl softened almost imperceptibly and he nodded once. Ace let go of his hand and Daryl trudged out of camp, no doubt off to hunt, and Ace looked across to where Merle and Michonne were bickering about who the fuck knew what. 

"I can't go, brother," Shane said finally. "I gotta stay here." 

Rick sighed. "Yeah. I figured. Probably not a bad idea anyway."

"Take Glenn. Michonne, so I don't have to listen to her and Merle the whole damn day. Noah. Whoever else wants to go. I'll ride herd on everyone here," Shane agreed. "I'd back you up, man, you know I would, but I- I can't lose them again." 

"I know. I get it," Rick agreed. 

"I thought I was hallucinating her. Back at Terminus," Shane admitted. "And man, I was- I was ready to end it all. I'd been carrying this bullet around, in my pocket, so I'd always have one handy. Didn't want to come back, once I went. Beth kept me from using it. Beth and goddamn Daryl Dixon, man." 

Rick was silent, and Shane glanced over at him with a twisted smile. "Sorry I didn't have more sympathy, with Lor. I mean, I did, but I didn't get it. Not then. I do now." 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly. "Yeah. Take the damn bullet out of your pocket. I need you, and we need all the ammo we got." 

Shane snorted and shoved a hand through his hair. "Asshole. Ace has it now." 

"Good enough." 

Rick took Michonne, Glenn, Noah, and Tyreese. Shane stayed with the rest, checking in on the radio, and making sure their meager remaining supplies were organized and ready to go. 

Ace played with Judy and doodled in the dirt, and Shane found himself wondering how to get his woman a sketchbook and some pencils for what might have been the ten thousandth time since the end of the world. He smiled as she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at the ground, remembering the one and only time he'd let her drag him into a craft supply store. She'd squinted at every damn thing just like that, and treated him to a three-hour extended lecture on the pros and cons of each different material and each different brand. 

It wasn't that Shane didn't like listening to her, or that he didn't care, but honestly. He didn't really care about the minute difference in the chemical formula of one brand of her beloved spray paint verses another. He'd struck her a deal right then- she never made him go in one of those stores with her again, and he'd stop asking her to mix Old Fashioneds all night long when he hung out with her. 

He'd love to have her drag him through a craft store right now. He'd hang off every word and buy her every goddamn paint in the store, then help her do an extensive experiment to compare them all. 

He wandered over to her now, radio in hand in case Rick checked in again. "Whatcha doin', Slugger?" 

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing. Just messing around." She leaned against him when he crouched behind her, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm worried about Darrie." 

"He's hunting. He'll be fine," Shane assured her, but the truth was, he was worried too. 

Daryl was taking Beth's death hard, and it wasn't getting any better. He barely spoke two words to anyone, and then only to Ace, Carol, or on occasion Merle and Rick. He hadn't been this bad even when the prison fell, and Shane honestly didn't know what to do. 

Like thinking his name had summoned him, Merle came striding out of the trees with an irritated look and a pair of rabbits he held by the ears. On the one hand, fresh meat, Shane thought. But did he have to carry them like that? 

Merle tossed the rabbits down near Ace and she cured her lip. "No." 

"No? Shit. Ya gonna help," he fired back as he sat. "Only got the one hand." 

"And it has not yet stopped you, asshole. No. Where's Darrie?" 

Merle grimaced and met Shane's eyes. He could see the worry in them before Merle looked back at Ace. "Ya damn brother's bein' an broody asshole. I'm about ready to smack him a couple times, see if that snaps him outta it."

"Merle," Ace chided, and he rolled his eyes. 

"He's still huntin'. Said he'd be back before the others were an' not to be a goddamn mother hen about it." 

Shane sighed and batted Ace's fingers away from her mouth when she started chewing on her thumbnail. "Should I go talk to him?" 

"Don't think it'll do more'n get ya cussed at, pig," Merle said seriously. "Gotta let 'im work it out. Always was a sensitive bastard, an', well. She meant a lot to him." 

"To us both," Shane agreed. Ace's hand tightened in his, and he kissed her fingertips absently. "I'm alright, sweetheart. Daryl will be ok, too. Eventually." 

Sure enough, Dixon came back an hour later, string of squirrels over his shoulder and that fuck the world look in his eyes. He plopped down at the edge of camp to start cleaning them and Shane watched for a bit before thinking, fuck it. Ace's brother was his friend, and they’d both cared about Beth. Shane was worried, Merle was worried, Ace was worried- someone had to at least try to talk to him. 

He dropped down and pulled his knife, taking the skinned and gutted squirrel and starting to remove the meat. Daryl glanced at him and didn’t say a word, and Shane let the silence grow through one squirrel and onto another. 

“I’m worried about you, man,” he said finally. 

Daryl snorted. “I ain’t ya girlfriend.” 

“Don’t be an asshole. That’s Merle’s job.” 

That got Shane a huff of air that might have been a laugh. “I’m fine.” 

“Your sister’s worried,” he countered. 

“Ace’s always worried. Damn mother hen,” Daryl mumbled. “Said I’m fine.” 

“You wouldn’t leave me alone when I thought Ace was gone,” Shane said seriously. He set down the knife and swiped blood from his fingers into his pants, looking Daryl dead in the face. “I’m not gonna leave you alone to stew now that Beth’s-“

“Don’t,” Daryl snapped. He tossed his hair from his eyes and gestured with the knife in his hand. “I know aight? We ain't that good of friends neither. Don’t need ya all up my ass about shit.” 

“You know what, Dixon, here's the thing- we are that good of friends." He held on to his own impatience grimly, trying not to let it turn to anger. Dixon was a tough nut and he knew it. They all were. It just took some pushing to get them to crack. “You’re Ace’s-“

“I’m Ace’s brother, yeah. Don’t make you’n me nothin’, Dickhead.”

Shane’s jaw tightened. “She’s the only one who gets to call me that. Now come on, man. Be pissed at the world if you gotta, but let someone in. Don’t have to be me.” 

“Yeah, it ain’t gonna be. Just cause my sister wants to spread it for some pig don’t mean-“

“Shut up,” Shane interrupted him flatly. “You can insult me all you want but don’t talk about Slugger like that.”

He saw the flash of guilt before Daryl sneered and turned away, and Shane's temper snapped. "You know what, man? Don't. Just fucking don't. You give a shit and we all know it. Stop acting like nothin' fucking touches you; like none of it matters. Jesus, didn't you learn anything from Beth yelling at you to fucking care?" 

Daryl was in his face and Shane didn't remember either of them standing up. Dixon's hands were locked in his shirt, his face inches from Shane's, and Shane just thought, yes. Let's go. He was ready to take a swing, dimly registering Merle's "aw, hell" in the background, and he drove his fist up and into Daryl's gut. 

Dixon shook him, practically ignoring the blow. "Shut the fuck up! Don't fuckin' talk about-" 

"Daryl Dixon, get your hands off of him or I will kick your ass into next week!" 

Both Shane and Daryl froze, and Shane winced at the tone of Ace's voice. Just like that, his temper faded. "We’re gonna get called girl names, aren’t we?” 

“Shit. Probably,” Daryl muttered, letting go of him. “Sorry, sis.” 

“I don’t know why you’re apologizing to me,” Ace snapped. Her arms crossed, one hip cocked, she looked like she could have punched them both and not felt any goddamn remorse. 

Shane remembered her going after Andrea with a knife and fought off a smile. His Slugger. 

Her eyes cut to him and he shouldn’t have laughed. He shouldn’t have. But he did. 

“What the fuck are you laughing at, Shanizzle?” She snarled. “I’m pissed at you too!” 

“I love you,” he said simply. “Oh, I love you.” 

Daryl snorted as Ace’s face twisted in a series of conflicting expressions. “Well done, Walsh. Sorry, man. I just-“

“Yeah. I know,” Shane said easily, clapping Daryl on the shoulder. “It’s all good. Just talk to someone, ok?”

Daryl jerked one shoulder and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Kiss my sister before she remembers why she’s pissed.” 

“Damn it, Darrie- oh!” 

She cut off abruptly when Shane dipped her down and did as instructed. 

Rick was waiting on his porch, watching anxiously when Shane pulled up. He parked the Jeep on the road, scrubbed his hands across his face, and sucked in a ragged breath. 

God, he was exhausted. His whole body hurt, head to toe, which made no sense considering Ace was the one who’d gotten knocked out. 

He shoved a hand through his hair as the rage swelled up again, both at that bastard who put his hands on her and at Ace herself. Rick started down the steps toward him, so he made himself get out of the damn Jeep before Rick dragged him out. Putting one foot in front of the other took more effort than it should have.

Rick studied him as he trudged up, and pulled him into a hug without a word. Shane leaned into him, not ashamed to admit he fucking needed his brother today. 

He’d been ready to kill Malcolm fucking Hall two hours ago. Hell, Shane might still kill him.

“She’s ok. We’ll keep an eye on her until she figures it out,” Rick told him, clapping him on the back and steering him up the steps. “And she will soon. You two are inseparable.” 

“I don’t know, man.” Shane hated the rawness of his own voice, but it was what it was. “I don’t- I don’t know. She seemed pretty fucking serious. She told me we aren’t friends anymore, brother. She’s- she’s Slugger. And she’s not my friend anymore because that asshole-“ 

Rick pulled him into another hug. Shane set his forehead on Rick’s shoulder and started to cry again. 

Rick had a look in his eyes, and Shane’s stomach sank to his toes. 

“What happened, brother?” He reached for Rick’s shoulder as his friend slammed the door closed, and Rick shook his head, jaw tight. 

The others were getting out slowly, and-

“Place was destroyed. No survivors. And we- we lost Tyreese,” Rick said. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “Got it.” 

Shane’s jaw clenched and he closed his eyes as Michonne and Glenn pulled the big man’s body from the truck. Another one. They’d just buried Beth, and now Tyreese was gone.

“No!” Sasha’s voice cracked on the cry, and Maggie grabbed her into a hug and held her up when Sasha would have collapsed on the spot. 

Shane’s eyes strayed to Ace, who stood motionless, her hands pressed over her mouth and eyes wide. She was pale and as Shane watched, tears welled up and slipped over her cheeks. Carol reached for her, and Ace turned and cling to Carol, her shoulders shaking. 

“We need to- we need to bury him. Need to figure out what we're doing next," Rick said slowly. "Need to-" 

"You need to sit down and breathe for a minute," Shane told him firmly. "Now. I'll get a grave dug. Sit. Talk to Carl. Hold Judy." He shoved Rick in the direction of the fire, grabbed the shovel, and scanned around. There was a tree line not far, edging what had been a field, and Shane figured that would do. 

It was the best they had these days. 

Father Gabriel said a few words, everyone tossed in a shovelful of dirt, and Rick beat him to grabbing the shovel after to really bury Tyreese. Shane eyed him and Rick shook his head. 

"Go talk to Ace," he said with a jerk of his chin in her direction. 

Shane wanted to. He needed to. She leaned on Daryl's shoulder as they walked back to camp with the others, looking exhausted and sad. He knew she'd gotten out with the big man, but he also knew there'd been no love lost between them before then. But Ace was- Ace was torn up, and it had been killing Shane not to drag her off and make her talk about it. 

"You sure?" he asked. 

Rick nodded. "I've got this." 

"'Bout time ya got ya ass over here," Merle declared when Shane came back into camp. Ace was sitting by the fire again, holding the stick she'd been using to draw in the dirt. She stared at the flames, motionless, instead. "Lil sister got somethin' on her mind. Ain't talkin'." 

"Wonder where she might possibly get that from," Shane said dryly. "Not one of you damn Dixons is a close-mouthed son of a bitch or anything." 

Merle flashed him a grin and slapped him on the back. "Course not, pig; we're all open books. Darylina's bad enough, all broody and shit. Don't need Ace bein' the same way. Go take care of it." 

"The fuck does it look like I'm doing, shithead? Go annoy Michonne for awhile," he suggested, shaking his head as he walked over and crouched beside Ace. "Your brother's an asshole." 

She smiled faintly. "Which one?" 

"Good question. Both of them. Come with me." 

She frowned, but Shane was already pulling her to her feet and tugging her off away from the camp. He laced his fingers in hers as he walked, heading for the nearby stream. He had a better chance of getting her to open up if he got her away from other eyes, and besides- he wanted a moment with his girl anyway. Privacy was a thing of the past again, and Shane missed it. 

"Where are we going?" Ace asked. 

Shane shrugged. "Here's fine. Nowhere really; just away from the others. Tell me." 

"What?" 

He stopped, turned, and pulled her in against him. Her arms wrapped around him and she leaned in with a long sigh, her cheek against his chest. He pressed a kiss to her hair and thought about hugging her a thousand times, and how goddamn empty his arms felt when she wasn't in them. "Slugger. Talk to me." 

She drew in a deep breath and her hands locked in his shirt. "Something happened, before we found you at Terminus. To Tyreese and Carol and I." 

"What?" he asked tightly, tension rising in him at the tone of her voice. He knew that tone; knew when she was dancing around the edge of telling him something that really hurt. He'd heard it when she talked about Malcolm fucking Hall, or some of the shit about her dad, or the miscarriage she'd had and the fact that she couldn't have kids now. He knew that tone, and it scared him. "What happened?" 

She was silent long enough he almost started asking more questions. Then she pushed back and looked at him, tears spilling down her cheeks and twisted pain in her eyes. "We- It wasn't just us. Lizzy and Mika, they were with us. Shane. It was- it was bad."

Shane held her hands and listened, and when she was done, he pulled her close again. "Shit, sweetheart. I can't- I can't-" 

"We were almost too late. She was going after Judy next, and I-" 

He tightened his grip on her. "It's ok. She's ok. Our girl's fine." 

"But for how much longer? What are we going to do now, Dickhead? Noah's community is gone. We're so fucking far from home, and we lost another one of our people. Eugene can't save the world after all, and-" she broke off and shook her head against his chest and sniffed. "And Maggie cries herself to sleep at night, and Sasha already looked broken, and Darrie's not ok. What are we even doing?" 

"Shhh," he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. "Come on, Slugger. One problem at a time. We'll figure out a destination in the morning. Have Rick and I steered us wrong yet? That man will- will throw a dart at a map, and I'll siphon gas and ride her on your brothers and keep Merle and Michonne from killin' each other, and we'll get there and it'll be the- the newly fortified center of returning life and Rick Grimes will act like he knew all along." 

When she laughed with him, Shane took her face in his hands and swiped his thumbs across her cheeks. "We're surviving, sweetheart. Doing whatever it takes. Until we can start living. Ok?" 

She nodded, those Dixon blue eyes on his worried but clear. "Whatever it takes, hero. Always."


	38. Lie #38: "I've Been Kicking Your Ass Since The Womb" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
mentions of past child abuse  
self-harm

"Now what?" Abraham muttered as the van's engine rattled and cut out, the vehicle slowly coasting to a halt. 

Rick sighed. "Now we walk." 

Now what? You mused. You trudged along, tired and thirsty and hungry as everyone else. 

"Now what" was the question, wasn't it? The million dollar question everyone had asked at least once since Noah's community had been found devastated and you'd lost Tyreese. Rick, Shane, Daryl, and Abraham had put their heads together, bent over a map, and somehow DC had ended up your target destination. Even if Eugene couldn't fix everything, maybe there was someone up there who could. 

The problem was getting there, apparently. 

Fifty miles to go, and you were on foot. With no food, and more importantly- very, very little water. 

Daryl and Rick were in the lead, and your eyes lingered on your brother as you trudged along. You and Shane brought up the rear, keeping an eye on the growing group of shambling dead behind you. 

Daryl looked over his shoulder and you bit your lip, worrying about the circles and the pinched look in his eyes. He wasn't ok, and losing Tyreese had made it worse. You were almost more worried about him than you were about the lack of water. 

Almost. Thirst would kill all of you, and it was well on its way to doing so. 

Daryl handed his rifle to Rick and started for the trees on the side of the road, and you frowned. "Dar?" 

"Goin' out to hunt," he called. "Don't worry." 

"I'll go with you," Carol offered. 

Daryl scoffed and didn't slow down. "I got it." 

"What, are you gonna stop me?"

You huffed out a laugh at that one. Go Carol, you thought, and she flashed you a grin and a wink like she'd heard your thought. 

"Rick," Shane called. 

You glanced over your shoulder and grimaced. The walkers were closer and there were more of them, and Shane was right. It was time to deal. 

You were taking a turn carrying Judy, and Shane touched your arm and gave you a pleading look. You nodded. You'd let the others handle this one. 

The bridge was perfect. Most of you crowded on one end, grouped together and taking advantage of the pause to sit. Judy leaned against your chest, and you worried about her being so damn lethargic. Daryl and Carol had to find water. Had to. 

Rick, Glenn, Michonne, Sasha, Abraham, and Merle waited at the other end of the bridge for the herd to get to them. They stood three on each side, near the shoulder where the road dropped off into dry, deep creek bed. The plan was, get the walkers to stumble right on over the edge. 

No more walkers; minimal expelled energy. Shane stood in the middle, rifle in hand, in case all hell broke loose. 

None of you were expecting that hell to be one pissed off Sasha, who was royally fucked up after losing Bob and her brother so close together. You couldn't imagine it, and you felt for her, damn it. 

But when she stabbed the walker in the head instead of tossing it into the creek, you were ready to shoot her yourself. Especially when that meant the others engaged, and you watched with your jaw tight as Shane waded into the fray as well. 

None of you had the energy for this shit. And here she was, taking a perfectly good plan and dicking it up because she was a raging hothead liker her brother had been. Hopefully you wouldn't have to threaten her the same way you had him. Honestly, you weren't sure you had the energy to get that angry.

Michonne's sword flashed and the last two dead went down. Sasha squared off with her in what was clearly a battle of wills that had you holding your breath, afraid someone was going to have to break up that fight. Merle hovered at Michonne's back, and you once again wondered if those two were going to get around to fucking eventually. 

Sasha backed off without Michonne having to move a muscle and you privately cheered her on.

Then it was back to walking. 

You never imagined you'd be hungry enough to eat dog, but the end of the world had done weirder things to you, you supposed. Water was still the biggest concern, but right behind it- on your priority list, at least- were Daryl and his determination to run himself into the ground and Abraham with his bottle of Fireball he'd found in an abandoned car along the way. That shit was a terrible idea, and you were tense as hell every time he took a sip. 

"Ok, Slugger?" Shane whispered. He rested his hand on your back and you forced yourself to relax. 

You nodded, offering him a smile, but you were so damn thirsty you weren't going to speak unless you had to. He smiled back and leaned in for a kiss, and you sighed and tipped your head to his shoulder for a few steps. 

"Daryl." Glenn held a bottle of water out to your brother, and he grunted and dismissed it. You scowled and caught Merle's eye roll, but Glenn just repeated Daryl's name. 

"Don't," your moody twin snapped. 

"Hey. We can make it together. But we can only make it together," Glenn insisted. 

Daryl turned away and headed for the trees. "I'm lookin' for water." 

That did it. You glanced at Shane and jerked your head after Daryl. "I'll be back." 

"Be careful," Shane said simply, catching your fingertips as you headed after your brother. 

You hung back, and you weren't sure if he knew you were following him or not. When he paused and sat down, back to a tree, with the little barn right there, you frowned and waited. What the hell was he up to? 

"Oh, Darrie, you idiot," you whispered. 

He stared at the lit cigarette and you knew what he was about to do, damn it. You stalked out of the trees, heading over to him as he pressed the lit end to his hand and your jaw tightened. 

Plopping down beside him, you snatched it from his hand and grabbed his lighter, flicking it back to life as he glared at you from under hair that desperately needed to be cut. You took a long drag from the cigarette, now kind of pissed that he'd been holding out on you, and blew smoke as you stared him down. He looked away first, and you tipped your head to his shoulder as you settled in. 

"Will's a dick," you said when he finally started to relax. He was picking at his fingernails, and you thought about Shane stopping you from chewing on yours. It really was a Dixon trait, along with self-destructive behavior and bottling up your emotions, apparently. 

Daryl shifted, and you didn't think he was going to respond. "What the hell are ya talkin' about, sis?" 

You grabbed his hand and kissed it, then held on when he scoffed and tried to pull away. "We both know why you're doing this. What happened to all those therapy books?" 

"Ain't nothin'," he muttered. 

You imitated his scoff and he rolled his eyes automatically. "You're not ok, Darrie. Don't try to bullshit me. I've been kicking your ass since the womb." 

"I'm older than ya." 

"So?" 

His lips twitched up in a hint of a smile before his face crumbled. 

"Shit. Shit. I'm sorry," you mumbled, eyes wide. You tossed your arms around him and he actually hugged you back, his forehead on your shoulder as he started to cry. 

Damn it, Daryl never cried. You were the one who cried all the damn time. 

You did the only thing you could think to do as your own eyes filled in sympathy. "Ok, big brother. Guess it's your turn to blubber. Mind if I join you?" 

He half-laughed, held on, and you both cried. 

They were gathered around something in the road, faces looking grim, when you came out of the trees together. Daryl had actually let a little of it out; talking about Beth while you sat and listened and held his hand. He'd needed to, more than even he wanted to admit, and when he'd finally stood and pulled you up as well he'd given you another tight, unexpected hug.

"Thanks, sis." His eyes slid away from yours and you let him, and he tossed his head and cleared his throat. "Better get back. Ya cop'll be all over my ass if I keep ya out of his sight too long." 

"Really, Darrie?" 

Rick and Shane started your way immediately, holding out a piece of paper. 'From a friend', you read when Daryl took it. He yanked his crossbow off his back, eyes on the trees immediately, but you were drawn to the bottles and jugs everyone else stood around. 

Water. From a friend. 

"What else are we gonna do?" Tara asked, and hey, that seemed reasonable to you. On the other hand, you didn't exactly have friends outside of these people right here, and-

"Not this," Rick said firmly. 

Shane's hand brushed your back as he grunted agreement. "Don't know who left it." 

Eugene decided to take quality assurance on his own head and Abraham slapped the bottle out of his hand wordlessly. Those two were going to be a fucking problem, you thought for the millionth time, but now wasn't the moment to deal with them. 

Especially when the thunder rumbled and the rain started to fall about two seconds later. 

It went from gentle and reassuring to driving and dangerous with the usual changeability of Southern weather. Virginia might not have been Deep South like your home in Georgia, but it was still below the Maison-Dixon, and it showed with the massive storm that rolled in from nowhere. Judy started to wail and you grabbed Shane's arm. 

"There's a barn!" you called over the rising wind. 

You took Judy from Carl while the others cleared the barn, playing peekaboo with her under the brim of Carl's hat to try to settle her down. She looked pitiful and scared, still hungry and thirsty and now soaked like a kitten who'd fallen into the bathtub. She had her little lip poked out and it made you smile with how delightfully normal that was. 

Shane smiled at you and motioned you in, and you discovered your home for the night was cozy enough and a hell of a lot roomier than the van you'd all slept in more than once. Maggie had put down one walker, a woman who'd been living here, and you started paging through her books as soon as Carl took Judith and went to crash by the tiny fire the others had made. 

"Hey, Slugger," Shane said, grimacing at the walker still laying where Maggie had left it. "Wanna come warm up with the rest of us?" 

You shrugged and set the book down. It had been right under the Bible, at the top of the stack, and you'd figured that made it important. Or, at the very least, beloved. "Romeo and Juliet" was a classic, and the worn spine and dog-eared pages said you were right; the dead woman had read it often. 

"I'm not cold." You were damp still, like everyone else, but this was Virginia. Wet in the summer was more a blessing than a curse. 

He pulled you close and leaned back against the stall- the former occupant had made one of them into a cozy-looking nest, around the same size as your cell at the prison- and you settled into him with a sigh and a yawn. 

"You ok, Dickhead?" 

He scoffed. "Course. We got rain, we got shelter. Things are lookin' up." 

"What about our mystery friend?" That one was still bugging you, because it meant someone was watching. They'd seen enough to know your people needed water, and they'd been able to leave some in your path without being seen. They knew the area as well. 

Could be dangerous. Could be life-saving. Trust or not? It was the kind of choice you'd been staring in the face daily since- hell, since you'd met the Governor the first time, it seemed. 

And you knew by the look in Rick's eyes he wasn't very trusting anymore. 

"Nothin' we can do about it tonight. Gonna rest up. Worry about that shit tomorrow," Shane said with a shrug you could feel, but you heard the same concerns in his voice that were rolling around in your own head. "Your brother ok? You guys were gone awhile." 

"No, he's not," you whispered. Shane stroked a hand over your hair and you shook your head against his shoulder. "He's- she mattered to him so much. I know she did to you, too, but-" 

"Not like to Dixon," he agreed. "Yeah. Is he gonna be ok?" 

"Eventually," you said slowly. "He'll have to be a moody dumbass for awhile longer, but hopefully he's done being an emotionally constipated idiot on top of that." 

Shane laughed and you looked up at him with a smile, loving the sound. None of you laughed enough these days. He shook his head, lips curving as well, and lifted a skeptical eyebrow at you. "You think you got room to talk? Couldn't admit you like me even after the world ended. Had to do everything myself." 

"Excuse you, but who seduced who?" you protested hotly. "I believe if you examine the record, you'll find it was me that got you into bed." 

"Only cause you were drunk off your ass," he countered. "And the next morning you tried to act like it didn't mean anything." 

Your eyes narrowed and you scowled at him. "Still counts." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Besides," you said, sliding your hand up into his hair and pulling him down until his lips brushed yours, both of you smiling. "I'm not drunk now." 

"Hmm, I should hope you have more sense than that. Trying to seduce me again, Slugger?" Shane's eyes didn't leave yours, his hands on your hips pulling you tighter against him. 

You bit your lip and winked. "Maybe. Is it working?" 

He kissed you hard, spinning you around and pressing you up against the stall. His hands caged you in on either side of your face and you couldn't stop the small moan in the back of your throat. "Shhh," he chided between kisses, cupping your face in his hands. "Carl and Judy are asleep." 

"We're not talking about the kids or my brothers right now, damn it," you muttered. "Just kiss me, Shane." 

"I can handle that." 

And of course, five minutes later, one of those idiot brothers came walking by and let out a wolf-whistle. 

"Aight now, lil sister, try to keep it quiet if you'n the pig are gonna go at it again. Even less privacy here than that damn prison, and we all know how ya get." 

You grabbed the nearest object- it happened to the the Bible, and wasn't that appropriate- and lobbed it at Merle's head. "Go away, damn it." 

Merle laughed and so did most of the others, and that was it for the mood. Shane tossed you an apologetic grin as you shoved a hand though your hair and straightened your shirt reluctantly. 

"Sorry," he offered, looking just as annoyed and frustrated as you felt. "Guess the corpse isn't the most romantic setting in the world anyway, is it?" 

You glanced at the walker in surprise. You'd honestly forgotten it was even there. "Eh. Wouldn't be the first time we fucked in front of a dead person, and I have a suspicion it wouldn't be the last either," you mumbled. 

Shane laughed at that and took your hand, and the two of you headed toward the fire and the amused looks of your weird little family. Eyes danced as Shane sat and pulled you down with your back against his chest and his chin on your shoulder. 

"Oh, shut up, all of you," you said with a roll of your eyes. Shane kissed your neck and you closed your eyes, thinking if you weren't getting laid, you might as well get some sleep. 

"Should probably be saving your strength anyway," Rick said dryly. "We've still got a long way to go." 

"Well, damn, Rick. You sure know how to kill a vibe," you complained. 

Shane and Merle laughed at the same time, and everyone else followed. 

You woke to a crash of thunder that sounded like it was right beside your head, sitting up abruptly with your heart pounding. You didn't know where you were at first, and your only clear thought was that Shane wasn't beside you. 

You were on your feet in an instant, scrambling toward the doors as fear shot cold fingers down your spine. Daryl and Shane were holding the doors shut, both of them scrambling for purchase against the dirt floor, and they were losing. 

You heard the moans and hisses of the walkers over the wind and rain as you slammed into place between them, adding your weight to theirs and getting a glimpse through the gap as you did. 

"Holy shit," you mumbled, eyes going wide. There was a whole fucking herd out there, trying to get in. Flashes of lightening illuminated your brother's grim expression and Shane's worried eyes, and you held his look as your feet slipped on the dirt. 

You nodded to him once, thinking about another barn and how the wall had given under the weight of hungry dead anxious to get out. You said a quick prayer that this wall would hold against the ones trying to get in, and Shane's hand covered yours for a split second. Thunder boomed and something slammed into the doors hard enough to almost send you flying, but then Rick and Maggie and Sasha and the others were throwing their weight with yours, Judith was crying because she'd been left alone, and you closed your eyes, set your back to the doors, and held on. 

Whatever it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say for myself. BUT I just plotted the next ten chapters today. So please forgive me


	39. Lie #39: "At The Moment, It's Being Clean." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon-typical violence  
smut

Turns out, "whatever it takes" was pretty damn clear. 

The next morning dawned clear and bright and Maggie and Sasha made a friend. Well, they thought he was a friend, and after Rick decked him, searched him, questioned him, and sent Shane and a handful of others to investigate his claims, it was determined that he might be telling the truth. 

Aaron handled it like a champ, all things considered, and you flipped through the photographs while Rick, Shane, Daryl, and Michonne held a conference and determined if you were going to the community Aaron represented. You hoped you were. The place had walls, solar panels, entire houses- it looked amazing. 

Rick was a very paranoid bastard, however, and he decided you'd take a different route than the one Aaron suggested and also, you were going at night. You stared at him, knowing that was a fucking bad idea, and even Shane tried to talk him out of it. It, of course, did not work, and Shane tossed up his hands and mumbled about him and that stubborn-bastard expression.

So when Shane drove one vehicle and Rick drove the other and you ended up, somehow, in the car with Rick, Michonne, Aaron, and Glenn, you were somehow completely unsurprised when you drove straight into a herd of walkers. 

"Goddamn it, I am driving next time!" you declared as you fought your way toward the flare Aaron's partner had sent up. "You people keep pulling a fucking Lori, every time!" 

Rick hadn't really appreciated that. Glenn did. 

Rick also didn't appreciate the yelling Shane did when you finally found them, the whistle signals Will had taught you and your brothers coming in handy. Daryl had hugged you first, and then Shane came out of the building looking ready to go to war. You understood, since the tightness in your chest hadn't wanted to easy from the moment you'd wrecked until now. Thinking he was dead was still too goddamn fresh for that.

You had, however, stepped in when he went from yelling to swinging at Rick, because if there was one thing you didn't need right now, it was the two of them getting into a fight. 

Aaron's partner was Eric, who'd managed to get a broken ankle doing something stupid- that was love for you- and it was determined that you would go the rest of the way the next morning. Mutiny of all hands over Rick trying to keep Aaron and Eric apart lead to him proving he wasn't completely gone on the crazy again, which frankly had become a bit of a concern. You, too, were worried that things weren't as they seemed. How could you not be? Terminus had promised sanctuary, and they'd been eating people. But you were dying out here, and not just physically. You'd eaten dog. It was getting rough, and Alexandria promised something a hell of a lot better than dog, even if you had to fight for it.

"Rick's being a stubborn bastard," you whispered to Shane. 

He grunted and pulled you closer. "Rick's lucky you didn't get hurt." 

"Stop. I'm fine, Dickhead." 

He pressed his lips to your shoulder and didn't speak, and you turned in his arms and curled around him, head on his chest. He sighed. "You think we should trust them blindly?" 

"Of course not. But Shane, that wall. It's a community. We need it. This is- this is barely even surviving," you mumbled. "Besides, whatever it looks like when we get there, we'll handle it. This group? We'll just take over the place if we have to." 

Shane laughed and kissed your head as you hooked your leg over his hip and tucked your toes under his knee. "That's my Slugger. Whatever it takes, right?" 

"Always." 

Alexandria was- 

Well, frankly, it looked and sounded too damn good to be true, which meant it probably was. The wall was incredible, and you had a feeling you'd be even more secure behind it than you'd been behind the fences at the prison. Then again, the prison had fallen, hadn't it? Any place could. 

But that wall. It would be a tough damn nut to crack. So you'd better get inside, whatever it took.

You grabbed Shane's hand as everyone gathered at the gate and Aaron and Eric turned to smile at your little family. Though, considering there were eighteen of you, including Judith, it wasn't exactly a "little" family.

"Welcome to Alexandria," Aaron said. 

Something rattled and Daryl turned and fired before you even saw what it was. You jumped, but he scooped up a possum and yanked the bolt out of it as the gate rattled open. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle semi-hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble out when he looked at the person behind the gate and shrugged. 

"We brought dinner." 

"Damn it, Dixon," Shane mumbled, and you gave up on holding back the laughter. 

"Welcome to the Alexandria Safe Zone. Mercy for the lost; vengeance for the plunderer." You grimaced at the sign. What was it with communities and nifty new slogans? It was worrisome. Then again, you knew better than most how people responded to things written- or drawn- on walls.

"Before we go any further I'm going to need you to give up your weapons," the new face, who'd opened the gate to be greeted by your brother's dumbassery, declared. 

You whipped your eyes to him as you stepped through the gate and it closed behind you. "You what?"

"Stay, you give them up." 

Rick had the baby on his hip and his Python in his hand and he stared through the guy. It wasn't even his stubborn bastard expression; it was a dead-eyed stare that had you eyeing him with growing concern. "We haven't decided if we want to stay."

Aaron told the other guy- Nicholas- to wait until after you talked to Deanna, and when Abraham snapped "Who's Deanna?" in the least friendly tone you could imagine, you decided this group needed to put a better foot forward and stat, because this place was… Hell. 

It was going to be your new home. It just was. It was perfect. 

You pushed your way to the front of the group, shooting Rick a look and dusting off your bartender's smile. "Aaron, pardon- well, all of us. Hi, call me Ace. Nicholas, right? We've been on the road awhile. We're all a little on edge, and we had some truly horrific experiences out there. I don't think any of us are comfortable giving up our weapons right now. Who's Deanna?" 

"Shane," Rick said, tone cool. 

You didn't glance behind you when you heard the single shot, but God have mercy, you wanted to bang your head into the wall. Were they serious? This was hardly the way to get yourselves let in, and if you wanted this place, you had to get inside. Taking over from out there- well, that felt unlikely. 

"It's a good thing we're here," Rick said in dead voice. 

Good grief. 

Deanna was the Alexandria's leader. Her townhouse was clean, luxurious, and decorated. There were some flatly soulless prints on the wall that you wanted to burn and some over-sized candlesticks that you thought would make a handy weapon in a pinch, but it was the rolls of architect's paper in a basket in the corner that had you staring when it was your turn to talk to her. You could do many, many things with a roll of that. 

Your fingers itched for charcoal or paint or just a fucking crayon like you'd had in Gabriel's church. 

Rick had gone first and had muttered that it was fine when he came back out. Aaron scanned the group of you, clearly trying to decide who should go next, and you stepped forward with a smile- honestly Rick wasn't the best impression your people could leave these days, like damn, and some damage control was probably in order- but Shane had grabbed your arm and gone instead. 

"Goddamn hero complex," you muttered. He'd just snorted. 

Now you wandered her living room, checking sight lines out the windows, running your fingers over spines of books, and eyeing the rolls of paper. She waited for you to look around, then smiled and gestured you toward a chair. 

"You're- Ace, right?" she said. "Nickname, I'm betting." 

You nodded. "No one calls my by my actual name. Ace Dixon. Nice to meet you." 

Deanna shook the hand you held out to her. "Deanna Monroe. So you know, I'm filming this conversation." 

"Yeah, Rick and Shane said you were. Why?" It had struck you as curious, and you perched on the edge of the chair and studied her.

She'd order either water, red wine, or something totally unexpected, like tequila shots, you thought abruptly. Even if Rick and Shane hadn't told you going into it that she'd been a Congresswoman, you'd have pegged her as a politician right off. Her smile was as professional as yours, but more polished. 

"Transparency," she said with a shrug. "This is a community, and everyone's interviews are a matter of public record. We need to know who we're dealing with, all of us." 

"And who do you think you're dealing with? Cause you can have all the interviews you want and still not know. Besides, people don't make judgments based on words. They do it based on feelings, body language, gut instinct," you said with a shrug. "You've already made up your minds about us by the time you come in the room." 

Deanna made a touche face that was as practiced as her smile. "That's a good point. But words are still important. As to who I think I'm dealing with, I think you're traumatized people who are looking for a place to call home. What judgments have you made about me?" 

You studied the room again. "You're in charge. If you don't like us, we're out. You're used to being listened to. You haven't left these walls since they went up and you have no idea what kind of crap is out there." 

"You're right about most of that. However, while I haven't seen what it's like in person, I've heard stories." 

"That's not the same," you muttered. "So, what do you want to know? How'd our fearless leaders do? Did they pass the test?" 

"It's not a test. Rick and Shane are very connected aren't they?" 

"Mmm," you agreed. "Gave the same fucking answers to everything then. They were partners before the world ended. I assume they told you they were cops." 

"They did. What were you?" Deanna asked, leaning forward intently. The answer obviously mattered to her, and the smart comment slipped out before you could stop it. Professional was one thing, but politician's smiles were calculating. You didn't like calculating.

"Part time therapist, beverage specialist, and minor criminal." 

She looked confused and you smirked. "I was a bartender and a street artist. I have a record but only of vandalism and trespassing and destruction of public property." 

"Having a record doesn't bother me. It's what's on it and why. What drew you to bartending?" 

That came out of left field. "What difference does it make?" you asked, hesitant. "Look, I don't- I'm a Dixon. My brothers and I, we're the product of shitty childhoods and shitty adulthoods. Doesn't make a damn bit of difference nowadays, does it? Rick and Dickhead, they were cops. One of my brothers was in a gang. I was booked more times than I want to think about. We all survived, and now we're a family. If you want to kick one of us out, you kick all of us out. And that's a bad idea." 

"Rick said something similar, as did... Dickhead? Interesting." Deanna sounded amused and you glared. 

"I'm the only one who calls him that." 

She tipped her head in acknowledgment. "Noted. Why would it be a bad idea to kick you out?" 

You softened the glare and shrugged. The point was to make a good impression, not get irritated and let the Dixon temper loose. Your brothers would do that enough. "Because we can make you stronger. These walls, they're- they're impressive. A blessing. But walls aren't enough. Maybe the dead can't breech them, but the dead aren't the only threats out there. Shane and Rick? They've defeated every threat we've faced so far. They'll teach you to be strong if you let them." 

"What makes them so special?" Deanna asked. 

"Rick wants to rescue every cat up a tree," you said with a smile, remembering something Shane had said once. "No matter what the cost to himself." 

"And Shane?" 

"Rick's a cop. Shane? Shane's worse. He'll do anything he needs to in order to survive, and he'll do more to keep those he cares about alive. It's a hero complex, and if you let him, he'll make you one of those he cares about," you said slowly. 

Whatever it takes. 

"What if we aren't those he cares about?" Deanna asked. 

You shrugged. "Watch out." 

"How'd it go?" Shane asked when you came out and Maggie went in. 

You chewed on your lip, feeling guilty. "I want the paper." 

"Thought you would," he said with a grin. "What's wrong?" 

"I think I fucked it up. I was trying to make a good impression. Maybe make up for whatever my idiot brothers might come out with, or for Rick's 'I'll kill you in your sleep' stare." 

Shane glanced at where Rick was, currently, directing that stare down the road. He looked back at you and lifted his eyebrows. "That's descriptive. But I doubt you fucked anything up. You can talk to anybody." 

"I said some things about you and Rick that are true but might have come off vaguely threatening," you admitted. "I'm hoping it won't matter, but I get the feeling if we blow this, we're not staying here with their cooperation." 

Shane eyed you. "Shit, girl. Pretty sure I told her she shouldn't let us in in the first place. Told her people out there are dangerous these days, and her people are soft. She wanted to know how long I'd known Rick, cause he'd said pretty much the same thing. Congresswoman thinks she can rebuild society, starting here and with us. Spun my words right around to be me takin' care of the place already."

"I don't like her. She's fake." 

"She's a politician." 

The laugh bubbled out and had Shane grinning and pulling you against his chest, and you closed your eyes with a sigh. 

Whatever you thought of her, your people managed to not get themselves kicked out. Including, somehow, your brothers. You considered that enough of a miracle that you didn't even argue when Rick agreed to putting all the guns into the collective armory. 

"After all," you muttered to Shane when he looked irritated, "We are weapons. Don't need guns." 

He laughed at that one too. Looks like you were on a roll today, even if it did earn you some side eye from Deanna as she explained that they were still your guns and you could check them out whenever you were going beyond the wall. It actually- reluctantly, you could admit that wasn't a bad system, if everyone trusted everyone else. There were kids and the untrained running around, after all. 

But you didn't trust everyone else. 

"I should have brought another bin," Olivia, the woman in charge of the armory and the pantry, joked awkwardly when Carol dropped her rifle on the already-overflowing cart and smiled at her. 

You eyed the arsenal you'd brought in and wondered which of these guys still had one stashed on them somewhere. You were betting on Merle or Rick. 

"Both of them?" Rick had said, shocked as you all stared at two entire houses, side by side. 

This had been a gated community, according to Aaron. The "gateway to the future", according to the pamphlets. It had its own cisterns, solar grid, and eco-based sewage filtration system. You didn't even want to think about how much these houses had cost. 

You and Shane were wandering one of them while Rick and Carl cleared the other, with most of your group still doing interviews with Deanna. Rick and Shane had decided that it was safe enough to give up the guns, and they'd left Michonne and your brothers in charge of watching over the group when Aaron had suggested you come take a look at the houses available for your people. 

You stared at marble counters, crystal chandeliers, subway tiles and under-mounted sinks and promptly started giggling. 

"What is wrong with you, Slugger?" Shane demanded, coming around the corner and finding you standing in a bathroom the size of your entire apartment growing up. 

"This place. Oh my God, Shane, this place," you managed, gesturing around wild-eyed. "I never- holy shit." 

He eyed you and then the house and leaned against the counter. "I'll admit, it's a step up from my place." 

"A step? You loaded and I didn't know it?" 

He flashed you a grin as you ran a hand along the brushed-bronze fixtures in the glass-enclosed shower that probably cost more than your entire bathroom had. "Fine. I couldn't have afforded the parking fee here. Well, maybe if I'd sold all those napkins you'd doodled all over." 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "I wasn't that good or that well-known." 

"Stop that shit. That good? Yes you are. I'll get you shit again now that we're somewhere settled," he said absently. He bent and opened the cabinet under the sink and started laughing. "Hey, Slugger. Found you something." 

You eyed his amused expression with concern. That face had gotten you two into some serious prank wars, and you weren't ready to start that shit back up yet. "Yeah?" 

He held a box out to you solemnly. "Don't say I never gave you nothing." 

It was hair dye. You cracked up as you took it and sank down to sit on the closed toilet and examine the box of honey-blonde dye. "God, Shane. Some old lady used this to hide her grey."

"Oh, I know," he shot back. "Best I can do though, sweetheart." 

You shook your head at him and looked back at the shower with a sigh. "Wish we could get in there. I'd like to be clean again. Maybe shave my legs." 

He walked over without a word and turned the water toward boiling. You lifted an eyebrow as he opened another cabinet and produced a razor with a flourish, and you cracked up when he bowed elaborately and offered it to you balanced flat on his palm. 

"Your wish is my command." 

You eyed the steam rising from the shower and bit your lip. "Should I?" 

"I am. You'd better join me," he countered, already pulling his shirt over his head. You watched, pulse starting to thunder as he unbuckled his belt and laid on the counter, then reached for his pants. 

You beat him to it, pressing close as you undid the button and the zipper and shoved them down his hips. Fuck it. There was a shower, there was Shane getting naked, and there were no walkers. If humans wanted to come try something while you and Shane were getting it on, well- at least you'd die happy. 

He laughed as you grabbed his ass and pressed a kiss to his neck, his hands already undoing your own belt and pulling insistently at your shirt. "Thank God," he mumbled as he got your tank up and off and steered you in the direction of the shower. "Thank God. Slugger." 

You moaned when his hands trailed down your back, aching for him to have them all over you already. It'd been too long and too much stress since you'd last had a chance to get laid, and frankly, as soon as he'd pulled his shirt off you'd been ready to go. 

Far cry, you thought as he fumbled with your jeans and you kept kissing him, your hands in hair, from what you'd used to think about sex. 

He shoved your jeans down and you stepped out of them as he backed you into the shower and pulled the door closed. The hot water hit your back and you moaned again, sex suddenly forgotten in the pure bliss of running water. 

"Oh my god, Dickhead, this is- This is what I think heaven is like." 

"Hotter than a volcano? Pretty sure you've confused that with hell." 

You shot your middle finger up at him and let the water flow through your hair, eyes closed. You still had on a bralette and underwear that were now getting soaked, but you honestly didn't give a single solitary damn. It felt too good. 

Shane's arms wrapped around you and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "It's like the prison, isn't it? I'm not sure what you're more excited about- sex or being clean." 

"It's a tough call," you admitted dryly. "At the moment, it's being clean." 

"Hmmm." He ran his hands down your sides to your hips, then turned you in his arms to face the water. His lips brushed lightly over your neck, lingering on your pulse, and up to your ear. "Bet I can change your mind on that." 

You shivered and leaned back against him as he ran his hands over you again. "God. Yeah, no bet. Too easy." 

He nipped at your ear and leaned around you, grabbing one of the bottles of shampoo in the shower caddy. "Hair first?" 

You moaned again and snatched it from his hands. "You get wet; I'll be scrubbing my head for the next ten years." 

He traded places with you and stepped under the spray, and his own sigh was almost as long and loud as yours had been. You kept half an eye on him as you scrubbed at your scalp. "Shane?" 

"Hmmm?" 

"Are you ok?" 

He cracked an eye open and dumped shampoo on his own head. "What do you mean?" 

He was going to smell like flowers. Oh well; he didn't care and flowers would be a hell of a lot better than what both of you smelled like right now. "Everything. Are you ok? We've been running non stop since we found each other again." 

"Come here," he said, reaching for you as his face softened. You stepped into his arms and he kissed you again, his fingers on your cheek. "I'm ok. I'm sorry, sweetheart." 

"Don't be. Just be ok," you whispered. 

He leaned his forehead to yours, cradling your face in his hands. "As long as you're around? Always. Kiss me, Slugger." 

Oh, you could do that, you thought. He turned you back under the spray and tipped your head back, still kissing you over and over as he rinsed the shampoo from your hair. Your hands slid over his shoulders and down his body as you sighed into his touch. 

You'd missed this so much. You'd missed him, and the way his hands on you made you feel, and his mouth on yours, and your best friend. You'd missed the taste of his lips and the sound of his heart and his voice murmuring your name. You'd missed talking to him and kissing him and touching him; missed the way his arms felt like home no matter where you were. 

And missed the places his hands took you so easily. 

He peeled the bralette over your head and tossed it aside, his hands cupping your breasts as soon as the fabric was out of the way. You drew in a shaky breath as he bent and pressed a kiss to your sternum, then gasped outright when he dropped to his knees and ran his tongue around the stone you'd managed to keep in your navel. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed your hip, his hands now sliding up and down your legs, teasing just under the edge of your underwear before he hooked them and yanked them down roughly. 

Hot water beat against your back and you braced yourself with a hand on the glass door when his tongue swept over you. "Oh, shit, Shane." 

He sank his teeth into your thigh and you moaned, head dropping back so the water fell on your face. He kissed where he'd bitten, mouth open and feather-light, and then he turned and pressed you against the glass. "Hold on, sweetheart. I'm planning on taking my time." 

You turned wild eyes to find him grinning up at you, and oh shit, you wanted to draw him right here, like this. Water on his face, his hair a little too long and scruff thick enough to be an actual beard covering his chin. Wicked gleam in his eyes and the smirk on his lips, his hands on your thighs with his fingers digging in just slightly. You watched as he held your eyes, leaning forward and hovering his lips over you until you made a needy sound in the back of your throat and the smirk turned into a grin; and you wanted that too, in oil on canvas and hung on the fucking wall because it was just so goddamn perfect. 

Then his tongue darted out again and you cried out his name. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder and sent you flying in moments, one hand curved around your thigh and the other braced against the glass. Your head fell back against the shower door and your eyes closed, Shane's mouth driving you wild and leaving you begging for more even as you questioned whether or not you'd survive it. His fingers dug into your thigh and he kept driving you higher and higher, until you fell shuddering over the edge with both hands in his hair. 

"God, Shane. Shane," you mumbled, tugging until he finally looked back up at you again. His eyes were dark and needy now, the amusement gone and pure urgency all that remained. "Dickhead, please."

He sucked in a breath at the 'please' and shoved to his feet, his mouth on yours again and his hands on your hips yanking you into him. He picked you up and turned and you wrapped your legs around him as he shifted you back under the spray. Water flowed over you both, hot and pure, and his arms wrapped around you and held you up as he positively plundered your mouth with his. 

When he broke away, he didn't go far, and you held his face in your hands and pressed kisses over his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids when he closed his eyes, his forehead, the corner of his mouth, anywhere you could reach. 

"Ace," he whispered. "Oh, sweetheart, I love you." 

"I love you too," you managed between kisses. "Shane." 

"Yeah. Yeah. Come- Here." 

The shower was fucking big enough that he could lower you to the floor and you could have laid flat on your back, but you sat against the tile wall and stared as he slid out of his own underwear and kicked them out of the way. He pulled you into his lap immediately, letting out a harsh groan as you took him in. He shoved wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your neck and your shoulders and his eyes not leaving yours. 

You pressed your forehead to his, eyes closing, and lost yourself in him. His hands wandered your body, down your back and to your hips and up again to tangle in your hair, until you cried out and buried your face in his neck as you fell over that glorious peak. He whispered in your ear, things you only half-heard as you rode the wave, and then he choked out your name as he fell as well. 

He stroked a hand over your hair, his lips against your shoulder as he gulped in air the same as you. You opened your eyes and stared at the steam filling the room and the drops of water running down the glass, cutting trails through the condensation. 

You would keep this place, you thought fiercely. You held on to your Dickhead tightly, thanking ever god in the books that you'd gotten him back and you'd gotten here, to where there was safety and hope. You would keep that. Whatever it took. It was yours now. This house, this community- they belonged to you and your family. 

God help anyone who got in the way of that.


	40. Lie #40: "Rick Was Right" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
underage drinking

Ace was eyeing the hair dye with an interested expression as Shane came back into the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips and clean clothing from the bedrooms in his hands. "Hey, Slugger- shit. Just do it, you know you want to." 

She shot him a look, but her eyes went back to the box and she bit her lip. "I don't know if I'd make a good blonde." 

"You'd make a good anything. Here, clean clothes. I gotta go check in with the others, ok? Be blonde for a bit, see how you like it. I hear they have more fun," he added with a wink and kiss on her cheek. 

"More fun than me? Were you in that shower?" she shot back, and he laughed as he pulled a tee shirt over his head and headed for the door. 

"Probably gonna have the others wanting showers and shit soon, so if you're gonna do it, do it fast," he said over his shoulder. 

"Dirty, Shane!" floated down after him as he took the stairs rapidly, and he grinned. 

Outside, he met Rick, Daryl, and Carol in the space between houses. 

"Shit, brother. You look like a rookie again," he informed Rick. The man had showered, shaved, and Shane could have sworn he'd gotten a haircut. 

"Have fun with Ace?" Rick asked pointedly, eyes lingering on Shane's damp hair. 

He shrugged, hooking his thumbs in his front pockets and not bothering to hide the satisfaction in his tone. "I always have fun with Ace." 

"Stop talkin' about my sister like that," Daryl muttered. "It's gross." 

"You talk to and about your sister all the time, but now it's gross?" Shane said with a roll of his eyes. Daryl's lips twitched before his eyes roamed the street and studied the two houses nervously. 

Carol's hand wrapped around her knife handle. "They're side by side, but…" 

"They took our weapons and now they're splittin' us up," Rick agreed. He and Shane looked at each other and Shane nodded. 

"Same house tonight?" he suggested, then blinked when Carol smiled brightly and fake as all hell out toward the road. What the fuck? 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. 

Ace had found a notebook and a pen somewhere, a lined, spiral bound thing probably meant for taking phone messages and shit. Shane watched her frown in concentration as her pen moved and he wondered what masterpiece she was working on now. She curled on the couch, with Carol beside her, watching over her shoulder.

When the whole group had finished interviewing with Deanna, Merle and Abraham finally coming to the houses for the first time with Sasha, Rosita, and Michonne just before dark, there was a quick debate and the decision to not only sleep in the same house, but down on the first floor, together in the living room. Showers were had by all and Michonne spent a solid twenty minutes brushing her teeth. 

Shane had hauled down a pack'n'play from one of the upstairs bedrooms for Judy, and honestly his girl looked delighted to not be held, sitting and playing with a little rattling ball in the portable bed. Cushions and blankets scattered the room, the whole group quietly occupied with their own activities but together. 

Shane remembered the first night in the prison yard; all the empty space they could have gone too and everyone had been on top of each other around a small fire. Some things never changed, he thought. Even if the faces did. Grief flashed through him- for Lori, for T Dog, for Hershel, for Beth- and he thought about dancing in the dark with Ace and how he hadn't even told her he loved her yet. Damn, he'd wasted so much time with that woman.

Carol pointed to something on the page, and Shane's curiosity grew when Ace didn't try to bite her hand off but instead frowned, glanced at Carol, and murmured a question. Her expression cleared at Carol's answer and she nodded, pen moving again. What the fuck were those two up to?

He wandered behind the couch to get a look at the notebook without bugging them almost laughed when he saw the rough but ridiculously detailed map of the place. Then Ace flipped the page and started sketching in the section of street and wall their two houses were on. Shane watched as she marked exit routes from both houses, Carol making suggestions near wordlessly just by pointing. 

Jesus, Slugger, he thought. Of course she was mapping the place. She'd be color coding it if he'd found her markers. That was his girl.

There was a knock on the door and Shane wasn't sure if he was proud or distressed by the way every single one of them went for guns that weren't on their hips- including him. Ace flipped the notebook closed and stashed it under a cushion as she rose, and Shane nodded to Rick. Rick opened the door, and Deanna stepped through. 

"Rick, I- Wow." Deanna stared at Rick, who scoffed and rolled his eyes while Shane tried not to grin. 

Man, he understood. He'd gone straight back into that second house and found Ace with the bottle of dye in her hair and a deer-in-the-headlights look, and he'd just grinned and grabbed a razor to attack his face. "Wait till you see Rick," he'd told her casually. 

She was honey-blonde now, and it looked great on her. But he missed blue or green or some other crazy color, each one so utterly and perfectly Ace. Like the vibrant colors she saw in the world all around spilling from her mind for the world to see. 

"I didn't know what was under there," Deanna said, tone teasing. "Listen, I don't mean to interrupt; I just wanted to stop by and see how you were all settling. Oh my," she added when she looked into the room and found everyone watching her silently. 

Shane didn't have to look to know there would be several neutral expressions, at least two downright hostile ones from the Dixon boys, and probably no smiles of welcome, unless Ace had her bartender expression on. 

"Staying together. Smart," she said indulgently with a nod to Rick, her tone making Shane's teeth hurt from clenching his jaw so tightly. 

"No one said we couldn't," he put in before Rick could speak. 

Deanna glanced at him and then back to Rick, that almost patronizing smile on her lips. "You said you were a family. Absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that. Don't you think?" 

Merle snorted. "Ain't family with these two damn pigs." 

"Shut up," Ace said dryly. "You are too, you cranky redneck." 

Deanna's smile grew, but Rick shifted and leaned on the door. "Everyone said you gave them jobs." 

Everybody was a bit of a stretch, Shane thought, since all three Dixons, Rick, Michonne, Sasha, and himself hadn't been assigned shit. 

"Mhm. Yeah, it's part of this place. Looks like the communists won after all." 

Ace snorted and muttered something under her breath, and Shane glanced over his shoulder to catch her grinning at Daryl. Her twin had stepped up to her and Ace leaned against his side. Shane wasn't sure who was comforting who, since Dixon's eyes had been darting and his shoulders tense since they came through the gate. 

"You didn't give me one," Rick pointed out. 

Deanna smiled. "I have. I just haven't told you. Same with Shane and Michonne. I'm closing in on something for Sasha, and I'm just trying to figure the Dixons out. All three of you. I have some ideas for Ace, though I haven't settled yet. But I will." 

Merle's snort was profound, and Shane bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. He had a feeling if he looked back, Ace would have that adorable offended look on her face, and he'd fucking lose it.

Deanna offered her empty smile to the room and then glanced back at Rick as she turned to go. "You look good." 

Rick rolled his eyes again and closed the door. 

Ace broke the silence. "I mean, she's right. Mountain Man doesn't look good on anyone. That's directed at you, brothers of mine. Find a razor and befriend it, please." 

Shane lost the battle with his laughter as Merle tossed up his middle finger lazily and Daryl shook her off his arm to turn back toward the window with a roll of his eyes. 

The next morning, everyone started wandering out to explore. Ace and Carol had their heads together, Merle trailing along behind them with an indulgent expression. Shane had kissed her in the kitchen until Maggie whistled and Merle tossed a pillow at them, and sent her off with a squeeze of her hand and a promise to be careful. 

He hung back, waiting for Rick, as Carl pushed Judith in a stroller. Daryl sat on the porch, in a corner with his back to the railing, and watched everything with guarded eyes. 

Shane sighed and lifted his eyebrows at him. "Didn't they say explore?"

Dixon was picking at his fingernail and Shane resisted the urge to tell him to stop that shit. "Imma hang back. Keep an eye on this place." 

"Don't like it here, huh?" Shane thought about what Slugger had been saying the night before, her hysterical laughter in the bathroom. "Ace said it was so damn fancy she thought she'd break something just by being in it." 

Daryl's eyes flicked to his and then away without saying anything, but Shane knew him well enough to see the faintest hint of a smile. 

"Lori and me, we used to drive through neighborhoods like this. Thinking 'one day'…" Rick said from the doorway. 

"Well. Here we are," Daryl muttered bitterly, his lip curling as he studied the house instead of making eye contact with them. 

Shane and Rick looked at each other and Shane shrugged. Ace's brothers were a damn mystery sometimes. "We'll be back, man." 

"Keep an eye on my sister." 

"She'll be pissed you only said her and not Merle," Shane called.

Shane frowned when they hit the street and Carl and Judith were no where to be seen. None of the others were either, and- 

One glance at Rick showed something approaching panic on his face, and they both took off at the same time. Shane was busy searching the street for any of their people when the loud crash came, and he whirled and went for his gun- the gun that wasn't there- in the same motion. Rick had slammed into something, big and metal and now in pieces, and he had a wild look in his eyes that somehow calmed Shane down. 

They couldn't both lose their heads. Shane had to keep Rick from doing anything stupid. 

"Rick, you ok?" The owner of the voice was a pretty blonde woman who had clearly met Rick already and looked at them both with concern. "Hi," she said absently to Shane. 

"Did Carl and Judith walk by? We were out and they were ahead of us." 

Shit, Rick sounded bad, Shane thought, and reached for his brother's shoulder. "Breathe, man, they're probably fine." 

The woman's face softened into a smile. "I think I know where they are. I'm Jessie, by the way," she added, already heading down the road. 

Rick was right on her heels, his breathing rough, and Shane kept one eye on him and the other on the houses all around. "Shane. Nice to meet you." 

Jessie flashed him a quick smile and set a hand on Rick's arm as she gestured toward a house a little down the street. An elderly couple sat on the porch, Carl standing with them and holding Judith. The man played with Judith's feet and Carl had a cornered but polite look on his face. Shane bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The kid looked so much like Rick when he did that shit. 

"That's Natalie and Bob Miller. They had five kids and twelve grandkids. And it's been a long time since anyone's seen a baby around here. She's gonna have to put up with some pinched cheeks," Jessie said wryly to Rick. 

Shane snorted and clapped Rick on the back, waving to Carl when he spotted them. Rick sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. 

"Thanks. I just, um-" Rick said slowly. 

"It's ok. I get it. I'm the same way with my boys." 

"You have kids?" Shane asked, giving Rick a minute to get his shit together. Also, he wanted to know more about her, since Rick was looking at her like he'd never seen a woman before. Shane had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn't felt since college, when Rick had spent two weeks crushing hard on Amy McNeil from Intro to Criminal Justice and Shane had thought for sure he was gonna have to talk him out of breaking up with Lori. 

Luckily Rick had come to his senses, and Shane still didn't know what had happened there since Rick hadn't exactly told him about the crush. Shane had deduced it based on the way Rick got flustered, followed her around, and generally made a fool of himself whenever she was in the vicinity. Whatever it was that snapped him out of it, Shane had been grateful then and was still grateful now, and he wondered if he was going to be trying to recreate whatever it was. This whole situation smacked of bad news, and they were definitely in far too precarious a position to be getting involved like that.

Jessie smiled. "Two boys, Ron and Sam. Ron is Carl's age." 

"That's nice," Shane said. "Could probably use some friends his age." She didn't mention a husband, but Shane noticed the ring on her finger when she brushed hair back from her face and could have groaned. He couldn't exactly ask, what with the whole people dying left and right thing, and at this point he honestly wasn't sure he wanted to. They had enough on their plates.

"I'm sorry I broke… whatever that was I broke," Rick said abruptly. He turned to Jessie, who made an embarrassed face before she smiled. 

"It's a sculpture I'm making with the boys. It's an owl. I mean, it will be. I just can't get the eyes right." 

"Yeah, the eyes," Rick agreed.

Shane started laughing. "Oh, Slugger's gonna love you."

"Slugger?" Jessie asked, tone curious. 

"My girl. Ace, Ace Dixon. She's an artist." He heard the lazily pride in his voice, even as his eyes trailed back to Carl and Judy. "She'd love your owl." 

"I'm looking forward to meeting her then," Jessie said. "But you didn't even get a good look at it." 

"Don't matter. Slugger loves all art. Besides, Rick was in the middle of losin' his mind, and I wasn't doing too much better," Shane admitted. "Brother, I'm gonna rescue our baby girl. Carl's looking desperate." 

"Yeah," Rick acknowledged. 

"Your baby girl? Together? I thought- he said he has a girlfriend?" Jessie sounded confused as Shane walked off and he shoved a hand through his hair with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. Looked like he and Rick were gonna be explaining the whole twisted mess of a situation with Judith to a new crowd of people or else everyone was going to be assuming they were a couple. 

Yeah, Ace would love that one too. 

Shane was well on his way to drunk and he was fine with it. There was a cute girl from the junior class under his arm who'd been dancing and making out with him half the night, and he had a feeling if he played his cards right, he'd get lucky. 

Good thing he had plenty of cards to play. Wasn't every day a sophomore got to hook up with an upperclassman.

He glanced around the room as he took another sip from his Jack and Coke, the traditional red solo cup holding probably more Jack than it should be, all things considered. He kept an eye out for Rick and Lori as he scanned what had to be most of King County High in one room. Lori hadn't really wanted to come out tonight, but last he'd seen the two of them, they'd been tearing up the dance floor together and Shane had laughed at the sight of straight-laced Lori grinding against Rick with a wine cooler in her hand. 

He didn't see them anywhere right now, but that probably just meant they were off making out somewhere quieter. He turned back to the pretty junior- damn, he couldn't believe he'd forgotten her name, he'd better figure it out quick- and bent to kiss her some more since she was biting her lip and trailing her fingers along his arm suggestively. 

A shout and a crash had him springing up and looking around for Rick and Lor again, cause if this party got raided the last thing they needed was Lori's dad catching wind of them being here. To his intense surprise, the source of the commotion wasn't cops after all. 

It was Rick. 

Shane blinked in complete shock before he was wading into the fight at his brother's back, not that it looked like Rick needed the assistance. He was beating the crap out of Chad Cooper, and Shane briefly wondered just what the fuck the guy had done. He was a dumbass, but he wasn't the type Rick would do more than roll his eyes at usually. 

Then Shane decided it didn't really matter, cause if he didn't get Rick to stop Chad was going to need a hospital and they'd be right back to being in deep shit with Lori's dad. 

"Ok, brother, that's enough," he informed Rick, grabbing at his arm when Rick would have swung again. "Come on. That's enough." 

"He grabbed Lori's ass!" Rick yelled. "You don't just do that to someone!" 

Shane sighed and prayed for patience. Of course it was about Lori. That's the only reason Rick would get this agitated. 

Getting into fights at parties was more Shane's trick, which was why he could haul Rick off Chad, now bleeding from the nose and looking like he wanted to cry. "Yeah, no, I agree with you there, man, but that doesn't mean you should put him in the hospital. Think what Lor's dad would do if he caught her out at a party like this cause you beat a kid for awhile. Oh get up, Cooper, you're fine," Shane snapped at Chad. "Come on, Rick. Grab Lor, we're heading home. Enough for all of us tonight, I think." 

"I could call the cops!" Chad yelled. "He punched me!" 

Shane shot a disgusted look over his shoulder. "Yeah, you could. But since you'd probably get Lori's dad, you really want to explain to him that you grabbed his daughter's ass while you were both drunk?" 

Chad went pale and Shane shrugged. "What I thought. Call it even, you two, and we'll leave. Cool with everyone?" 

Chad nodded, Rick sneered, and Lori came cautiously out of the crowd and kissed Shane's cheek. 

"Thank you," she whispered before grabbing Rick's hand and pulling him toward the door. "Come on, Rick, let's go. Please?" 

Shane held Chad's eyes until he looked away, winked at Shelly- thank god, he remembered her name- and followed the two of them. He'd make sure their drunk asses got back to his house to sober up.

Rick stepped onto the porch and Shane glanced back at him. "Hey."

"Hey," Rick said slowly. "Didn't know you were out here." 

"Came out about three hours ago," Shane admitted. "Can't settle. Used to a shift on watch, man." 

Rick half-laughed. "Apparently I am too. Been awake for awhile, at the window." 

"Everything good in there?" 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly. "Michonne wants a job. She thinks this place, it's right. She's ready to go all in." 

"Most everyone seems to be," Shane agreed. "You're not?" 

"I'm- I'm being cautious. It's hard to turn it off." 

Shane huffed in agreement. "That it is." 

"Gonna take a walk." Rick glanced at him from the corner of his eye and Shane shoved up off the railing he'd been leaning on. 

"What do you think?" Shane asked. "Honestly. No one but me to hear, brother." 

"Carl likes it, but he's worried we'll get weak, like they're weak." Rick sighed and paused, head down in a gesture Shane recognized. He stopped as well, waiting for Rick to spit it out already. "I think they're weak, too. And this is- it's all too perfect. They have electricity and school. Most of them haven't been outside the wall the whole time." 

Shane nodded. "Doesn't mean it's not on the up-and-up. Deanna said they were being real choosy about who they let in." 

"Then why us? We're- We're the ones who survive, and that means we do bad shit. We're not the good guys anymore. That's what you said, once. We don't get to be the good guys and live. So what have they done to live, and why would they want us here?" 

Shane didn't have a good answer for that one, and Rick knew it. He shoved a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening as he looked around. Why, indeed? Cause Rick was right. No matter how much Ace called him 'hero', Shane wasn't one. They did what they needed to, and that's how they survived. So what had these people needed to do? 

He and Rick started walking again in silence. 

"You're Rick." 

The voice came out of the darkness just up from the house their people had taken over, and Shane didn't like it immediately. He was pretty sure the owner of it was drunk, which just struck Shane as a damn bad idea these days, walls or no walls. 

"I am," Rick acknowledged. "That's Shane." 

The man on the porch waved vaguely in Shane's direction. "My wife cut your hair." 

Oh shit, Shane thought. Of course she did. Of course she was married. Rick grunted an acknowledgement of that too and Shane's teeth ground together. 

"Welcome to Alexandria," the asshole said, taking another drag from his cigarette. 

"Thanks," Rick muttered, and started walking again.

"So," Shane said on the way back. "Wanna talk about that?" 

"About what?" 

Shane snorted. "Amy McNeil, man." 

Rick paused, looking genuinely confused. Then he scoffed and started walking faster. "College? What does Amy have to do with anything?" 

"You tell me, brother. What does Amy have to do with anything?" Shane asked pointedly. 

Rick wrenched open the front door and shot Shane a glare. Shane almost laughed, closing the door softly behind him, but Rick stomped away to his corner and Daryl appeared at the top of the stairs and shot him a curious look. Shane flashed a thumbs up and Daryl jerked his head before disappearing again. 

Seemed they weren't the only ones not quite ready to settle in, he thought. He stretched out between Ace and the door again, and her toes slid under his knee almost immediately. Shane smiled and closed his eyes, his arm around her. He listened to the others breathing, wondering if Merle was upstairs with Daryl since Shane didn't hear the oldest Dixon's chain saw snore going off.

He didn't like the look of Jessie's husband, he thought as he fell asleep. Maybe he'd get Ace to ask some quiet questions. She and Carol were going to cook and shit for others in the community tomorrow. Deanna hadn't given her an official job yet, so Ace was tagging along with Carol. 

They'd snuck off for some privacy and lay in one of the bedrooms upstairs after, talking about the place and what they thought. Ace had ideas for painting on the wall, and Shane had played with a strand of her newly-blonde hair and watched the way her face lit up and her hands moved as she described the images she could already see where everyone else saw blank grey metal. He'd stared until she caught him, and her cheeks had turned rosy as she looked down and away from him. 

He'd kissed her for awhile then, because he could. 

But they'd talked about the jobs the others had been assigned and her worries for her brothers and her confusion about why Deanna hadn't assigned her something. Shane had told her that he wasn't sold on the place yet, and she'd nodded seriously. 

"That's why I'm going with Carol tomorrow. Carol's playing a long con, and it's- honestly, it's terrifying and I'm so impressed. She's faking being the Carol we met at camp. Everyone thinks she's completely harmless and they tell her things. It was so fucking fun walking around with her today. I can talk to anybody, and most people find me easy to talk to in return, but Carol has them right where she wants them and they'll never know what hit them." She'd sounded fierce and positively delighted by the prospect, and Shane had lifted an eyebrow in mild concern. 

"Bit bloodthirsty there, sweetheart." 

She looked serious as he threaded his fingers through hers. "No," she'd disagreed. "Not bloodthirsty. Just wary. We've got to have this place, and it'll be easiest through infiltration. If we do that by simply living, becoming part of the community? Great. I'll be happy. But if we have to fight for it, we need every advantage we can get." 

"You're awfully ready to take over," he'd said, shifting to look down at her and trace his fingertips over her cheek. 

She leaned into his touch with her eyes closed and a smile on her lips. "Carl and Judy need safety. We all do, but them especially. And besides, now that I remember what this is like?" Her eyes were determined and possessive on his when she opened them and pressed a kiss to his fingertips. "I'm never giving it up again." 

Shane stared down at her and nodded, his hand tangling in her hair as her lips drew his like he was caught by some invisible magnet. He could agree with that.


	41. Lie #41: "I May Have Already Noticed A Couple Places Where I Could Probably Get Over The Wall" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
mentions of past self-harm  
past child abuse

"Carol, you scare me," you informed her on the way back to the house. Both of you had sent the day meeting people, helping make casseroles and other shit for older people, busy moms, and those who couldn't cook. 

You'd actually learned a few things from Carol, as had everyone else. The woman was magic. 

You'd learned more from the chatter of the women, most of them suburban moms who loved to gossip even before all this started. You'd turned on your bartender smile and started asking questions, and between that and Carol's truly terrifying performance, you had a whole shit ton of information to sort and file away until it was useful. 

She smiled and waved to the elderly couple who'd had a billion kids and grandkids and had pinched Judy's cheek until it was red the day before. Shane had grumbled about it that night, questioning why the fuck old people always did that. 

"Why?" Carol asked, and her eyes danced with actual humor behind the fake as hell smile. 

"That's why, you crazy person," you shot back, rolling your eyes. "You could be yourself and still get as much information." 

"No," Carol disagreed. "You can. You're actually still a good person, which is why it works for you. I haven't been a good person since- Well. So I have to fake it." 

"Carol," you said slowly, but she shook her head. 

"No, Ace. Leave it alone. It's working, isn't it?" 

You eyed her sideways, because no, you really didn't think it was. Not for her, anyway, even if it was working to fool the Alexandrians. But you sighed and nodded toward the section of wall you'd taken this route specifically to scope out. "There's the weak spot. No sight line to it from the church tower." 

She glanced and stopped in the road, turning toward you with her fake smile still in place and her eyes busy. "Hmm. Yeah. We need to get one of us up there, so we can map out the best choice for getting to and from without being seen." 

"Us? I can't think of any reason for that- oh." You grinned at her as you started walking again. 

"You had an idea." 

You widened your eyes innocently at her. "Oh, but- the sunrise was so beautiful, I just really wanted to capture it, and this was the best vantage point." 

Carol started laughing, having to stop walking until she caught her breath. "Ace. We need to find you some paints, then." 

"Pastels, please," you countered demurely. "For a sunrise." 

"Oh, of course. Sorry." Carol shook her head and then frowned, and you looked over your shoulder. 

Daryl hitched his crossbow up, staring at the ground and dragging his feet as he did the angry stalk. "Uh-oh," you muttered, knowing that look on your twin's face. He shot a glare over his shoulder and shook his head disgustedly at nothing, gesturing sharply with one hand in unconscious habit. "Well, that's not good. I'm gonna-" 

"Good idea. I'll be with Judith," Carol said, and you flashed her a grateful look and jogged toward your brother. 

"Hey, Dar. Who pissed you off today?" you asked, falling into place at his side. 

He scoffed. "Damn boyfriend's a cop again." 

"Did he ever stop being one? What the hell are you talking about?" You eyed him, chewing on your thumbnail and worrying. He still wasn't right; hadn't been since Beth. You hadn't caught him with anymore fresh burns, but he was handling living in the lap of luxury even less well than you or Merle. 

"Deanna. Made Rick and Shane cops again, an' Michonne too. They're the fuckin' constables now. And some asshole took a swing at Glenn, and the two of 'em wouldn't let me beat his ass." 

You blinked and tried to process that one as Daryl scoffed again and spat onto the road, and you made a face at him. "Can you try to act like a civilized human being? Jesus, Dar. We need this place." 

"Kids need it. I don't," he snapped. "Doin' just fine out there." 

"Darrie," you said slowly, reaching for his hand. You were seriously worried about him, damn it. 

He rolled his eyes and jerked away. "M'fine, sis. Catch ya back at the house. Gonna go… I dunno. Shoot somethin', maybe." 

You chewed on your thumbnail some more as he walked away, wondering just what the hell you were going to do about that. Then you went to find Shane. You had some questions about cops and gates that needed answering.

"So," you sat on the bathroom counter and fiddled with Shane's new uniform shirt. He glanced at you through the glass and lifted an eyebrow in question as he scrubbed at his hair. "So Glenn, Tara, and Noah went out with Deanna's guys and then came back and Glenn knocked the guy on his ass?" 

Shane snorted. "Yeah. Something happened out there. I don't know exactly what it was, but Deanna seemed to side with our people over hers, so I guess that's good. Why the hell aren't you in here with me, again?" 

"Because I'm supposed to be watching your back since everyone else is over at the other house. You're gonna officially be a cop again."

"Guess so. Rick and Michonne are more excited about it than I am," Shane admitted with a shrug. "I ain't felt like a cop in a long time. Don't know that a uniform's gonna change that." 

You smiled. "But a uniform- or lack of one- doesn't change that you are one either." 

He shot you a look and shook his head as he shoved it under the spray. "Don't be ridiculous, Slugger."

"I'm not," you said, but changed the subject. "She say anything about us? The Dixon clan?" 

Shane grimaced. "No, she didn't. I'm worried about your brother. Both of them, actually, and for different reasons. Merle's being too reasonable. He hasn't hit on anyone yet and has made only a few racist comments, and they were more from habit than vehemence. I'm concerned."

You smothered a laugh, but yeah, you agreed with him there. Merle seemed almost laid back, and had since you'd gotten to Alexandria. You added it to the list of mysteries you needed to research and promptly shoved it to the back of your mind. "Daryl's not ok and I don't know how to help him." 

Shane looked at you and you saw the same worry you felt in his eyes. "I know. I don't know either, sweetheart, but he'll be fine. He just needs time. Hasn't been all that long since the latest blow, and it's been non stop for awhile. Plus, you brushed up with the rich and fancy at Maria's often enough you understood them even if you didn't like them. From what I know of your brothers, they didn't. He's gotta be feeling it." 

You nodded and grimaced, because Shane was exactly right. You knew all that, and you knew how out of place he felt. You also knew your twin well enough to know that's why he'd skinned the possom on the porch. Why he'd stayed behind when you'd all gone to explore the safe-zone. Why he was carrying the crossbow still within the walls. Deanna hadn't tried to get him to put it in the armory, because technically it wasn't a gun. He knew damn well they didn't want him just hauling it everywhere with him, though, and he was ignoring that. 

Stubborn? Your brother? No way. 

Shane cut the water off and opened the door, scrubbing a towel over his face before slinging it around his hips. "He's gonna be ok. Promise," he told you seriously, taking your face in his hands and kissing your nose. 

"You can't promise that." 

"Yes I can." He took the second towel you held out to him and rubbed it over his hair. His curls had grown back in from where he'd shaved it on the farm, and he'd started talking about maybe doing it again until you'd pouted. Now he scowled in the mirror and grabbed a clean tee shirt to pull over his head before he looked back at you. "I can because I know your brother. He's tough shit, Ace. You all are, stubborn Dixons. And he's got you." 

You rolled your eyes as he pulled on his uniform shirt, sliding off the counter and in front of him to do his buttons up yourself. When you finished, you smoothed the shirt down along his shoulders and found him staring at you. "What?" 

He shook his head and caught your hands, pulling you even closer so he could kiss you. "Just- Lori did that to Rick, back in the day. Our first shift. She said he'd done it wrong, redid it for him, smoothed it down like that. I remember thinking, man- that's it right there. That's love." 

You were grinning like a fool and you knew it, but that was just Shane for you. "Well, guess it’s a good thing I love you, Officer Walsh." 

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," he whispered, and kissed you again. 

Daryl, Rick, and Carol were on the porch when you strolled out of the second house, holding Shane's hand. He'd skipped the tie, snorting that it was a bad idea to give the bad guys something to grab onto in a fight. 

Plus, you were wearing his jacket, and he'd already scowled and called you a thief. 

Rick was in the full uniform, and you- Shit. You liked it. Rick looked like himself again, the one you'd met outside Atlanta, with his stubborn bastard look and determination to keep your humanity. There'd been something missing since Lori died, and you caught a glimpse of it back, in his stance and the look in his eyes. 

"Well, shit," Shane muttered, and you heard the happiness in his voice. He saw the same things you did, you imagined, and even more, since he'd known Rick for so long. 

Your brother glanced over his shoulder and blew smoke and you craved a cigarette so hard you almost drooled. "Oh, please tell me you have more," you demanded as you came up the steps. 

He sighed and dug the box out, and you lit up happily and leaned on the railing beside him. "Hey, look, it's Officer Grimes. Haven't seen him in awhile." 

"Yeah," Daryl muttered as Rick shook his head at you. "Noticed that. So, we stayin'?" 

"I think we can start sleeping in our own homes," Rick said slowly. 

Shane groaned, and you looked over at him, eyebrow raised. So did the others, and he scowled at Rick. "Damn it, you couldn't have made that decision an hour ago? Then I wouldn't have showered alone, man." 

You choked on smoke, bending over as you started coughing and couldn't stop. Carol laughed and Daryl thumped you on the back absently until you could breath without wanting to die, and you shot Shane a glare. "Really, Dickhead?" 

He shrugged. "Am I wrong?" 

"No," you admitted reluctantly, putting the cigarette back to your lips. "I hate you." 

"No, you don't."

"If we get comfortable here, we let our guard down-- this place is gonna make us weak," Carol warned. 

You and Daryl scoffed at the same moment, and Shane shot you an amused look. 

"Carl said that." Rick's tone was considering, and he moved to the railing and looked out over it. You shifted with him, leaning against the pillar and tipping your head to Daryl's shoulder because it was there and you could, and he needed it even if he didn't want to admit it. The fact that he didn't shake you off meant you were right.

"It's not gonna happen," you disagreed. 

Rick nodded. "We won't get weak. That's not in us anymore. We'll make it work." He glanced at you and Daryl, then over at Shane and Carol. "And if they can't make it? Then we'll just take this place." 

Shane made a deeply disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "That's exactly what Ace said before we even got here, man." 

Daryl started laughing. 

Merle snored. He always snored and most of the time you could sleep through it but here you were awake. And Darrie kept making these little pained noised whenever he moved, which considering he was a restless sleeper that was a lot. 

You shouldn’t be resenting them for keeping you awake, and you weren't, really. Daryl had taken a rough one tonight. He could make all the pained noises he needed to. Merle had cleaned Daryl up and reminded you to breathe and generally made everything as better as he possibly could, all things considered. So if he snored, he snored. 

It was just that you were scared, and you were tired, and you wanted oblivion. Sleep wasn't happening though, so you sat up and stared out the window, reaching for your sketchbook. There was enough light from the streetlight you could see to draw, but- 

That wasn't what you wanted. Will's angry screaming echoed in your mind and you wanted to drown it out. You wanted to find some way to silence his voice forever. 

Restless, you rose and slipped from the room, wincing when the door creaked. Daryl and Merle didn't stir, so you huffed out a breath of relief and crept toward the living room. The tv still played some shitty something that Will liked; lots of shooting and cursing and, ew, some guy was grabbing some girl's boobs. Grown-up shows were fucking weird. 

Will himself was passed out in his chair, big surprise. He had a mostly empty beer bottle in his hand and several more on the floor beside him, and his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped. 

His belt had blood on it where it was tossed over the arm of the couch in easy reach, and your stomach lurched. 

You'd be better off without him. All of you would. Merle would take care of you; he could do anything. He already made sure there was food in the house; that you and Darrie had clothes that fit, for the most part; hounded you about school, even though he skipped half the time and didn't have shit for grades. He protected you from Will as much as he could. 

And when he was in juvie, you and Daryl could fend for yourselves, like you did now. Hell, you'd be safer and happier, because you wouldn't have Will to worry about. Darrie wouldn't get beaten to hell and back anymore. He wouldn't get more scars than the ones he was already going to have; wouldn't make pained noises when he moved in his sleep. Merle wouldn't go quiet and pinched, his eyes hardening with every move he made. He wouldn't suck in a harsh breath and say 'do it' in a strained voice when you told him he needed stitches and your hands were shaking.

You could get rid of him, you thought. Your hands shook now, like when you had to stitch Merle, and you shoved one through your hair, eyes going wide as it wouldn't leave your mind. 

You could get a knife from the kitchen. He was out cold; he wouldn't hear or feel anything. You could do it. 

What the fuck? You swallowed hard as bile rose in the back of your throat, pressing a shaking hand to your mouth and sprinting for the bathroom. You'd- you'd been thinking about killing Will. 

Your dad. 

You were eleven for shit's sake, you thought wildly as you heaved. There wasn't anything to throw up- you'd done it all already while Will was beating the shit out of Darrie and you couldn't do anything about it- but apparently your stomach didn't know that. What kind of crazy monster thought about killing her dad in his sleep? 

God, Will was right. You had to stick together. You couldn't lose your brothers, you thought as you tiptoed back into your room. You started to lay down again, but you bit your lip and turned toward Merle's bed. He lay on his stomach, sprawled with his snoring muffled by his face in his pillow, and you sniffed back tears. 

You were too old for this, but- 

He grunted and turned his face toward you when you curled up in the small amount of space available, coming half-awake. "Sis? Aight?" 

You didn't say anything, cause you were already crying and you couldn't tell him what was wrong. No one could ever know how fucked up you were, or even Daryl and Merle wouldn't love you anymore. You sniffed again and Merle rolled onto his side and scooted back toward the wall. His arm fell over you and the snoring resumed almost immediately. 

You smiled even as tears slipped down your cheeks and onto his pillow. Yeah, you could never tell them about this. You'd be more careful. Whatever Will said, you'd do. He was right; you didn't know anything. You didn't even know what you were capable of. 

You should not have been relieved to have your Glock back at your side, but damn it, it felt good. You stood with Rick, Daryl, and Carol outside the walls, pondering the disappearance of Rick's backup gun he'd hidden. There was a walker close but not visible, and you crossed your arms as you ignored it and pondered what Rick was saying. 

"You want to sneak into the armory and steal guns?" you repeated. 

He shrugged, giving you a confused squint. "What's the problem? I thought you were on board." 

"Oh no, I am," you assured him. "I'm just processing. I mean, we can go in when it's empty." 

"How's that? It's locked up at night," Rick asked. 

You and Carol exchanged amused glances. "There's just a latch on the window. Carol can leave it open." 

"A latch?" Rick looked incredulous and you felt that. Carol made a face and you huffed out a laugh. 

"What if one of those pricks shuts it?" Daryl asked. 

The walker sounded closer and he shot an annoyed look toward the woods, like he wanted the thing to either go the fuck away or come where he could shoot it. 

"Then we wait a few days and leave it open again. Ace and I are working on how to get around relatively unseen," Carol said with a shrug. "We've got the place mostly mapped out. We need to get up into the tower to confirm everything." 

"I, ah. I may have already noticed a couple places where I could probably get over the wall," you added. Rick shot you a look, eyebrows up and vaguely concerned, and you tried to look innocent. 

Daryl shook his head and sighed. "Walker's getting closer." 

"We need to do it sooner than later. Right now they're not watching us. Not worried about meetings like this. We may need the guns, we may not." 

"We'll need the guns," Carol said firmly. "Whatever way it goes." 

"They're the luckiest damn people I ever met," Rick said disgustedly. "And they just keep getting luckier." 

"How's that?" Daryl asked. 

Rick shrugged. "We're here now." 

"Damn straight," you agreed. "Look, they've got a foot locker just full of 9 mils, Rugers, Kel-Tecs. They don't use them. They'll never notice if a few are missing." 

Daryl shot you a look. "Shit, sis, when'd you learn what a Ruger is?" 

You blinked at him slowly, face expressionless, and turned back to Rick. "Thing is, we all need to try. Keep this to just us and Shane, you know? The fewer people who know, the better. And sorry, most of y'all aren't good enough liars for this shit. I'm not entirely positive you are, Rick, but it is your idea so maybe you can pull it off." 

"Thanks," Rick said dryly. 

"Someone's got a gun now, though," Daryl pointed out. "What do we do about that?" 

Rick grimaced again. "Yeah. Shane and I'll look into it. Here it comes." 

The walkers shambled out of the trees and Carol stepped forward. She unloaded seven into its body, center mass, before nailing it between the eyes. She turned and shrugged. "We brought me out here for shooting practice. I can't go back with a full mag." 

"Lucky he came by," Daryl said, his lips twitching up in a slight smile. 

"We should get back. One of you two pull the latch; we'll pick our moment. Us? We don't need to be lucky," Rick said.

You started back toward Alexandra, and Daryl paused beside the walker. "What the fuck is that? Is it a W?" 

All of you crowded around the walker, and sure enough, there was a W carved into its forehead. "Ok, that's just fucking weird," you said slowly. 

Rick grunted. "Yeah. Come on." 

Rick, Michonne, and Shane stood in a little huddle, windbreakers on and faces grim. Shane's arms were crossed and he looked vaguely rumpled and completely annoyed with the top few buttons undone and no tie. Michonne, as unable to leave clothing alone and you and Daryl- according to Dickhead, anyway- had laced up the back of her jacket, and- 

Holy shit, she'd left off her sword. 

You broke away from Carol and the ladies, pointing to Shane and laughing at the teasing you got from them in return, and jogged over to the newly-minted police force. "Hey, Dickhead. Why do you look so annoyed?" 

"Cause we're going to a party and that damn clock tower's been empty this whole fuckin' time." 

Your head whipped up to it, eyes narrowed on the rifle in the window. "But-" 

"It's empty and unmanned. Deanna's gonna put her son Spencer up there for today," Rick said slowly. 

You grunted, still eyeing it. Michonne was eyeing you when you looked back at the group. "Wait. A party?" 

Shane's hand tangled in your hair and you leaned into him. "Yeah. At Deanna's. A welcome party." 

You thought about cracking open beer and pouring wine in the prison, your people laughing and talking and playing cards, relaxed in the firelight. You thought about music thumping from the speakers at the Lullaby, your hands and feet never still, voices tumbling over each other and bottled catching the light as you tossed them up. A slow smile spread across your face. Shane's hands on your hips as you danced in some club in Atlanta, both of you laughing your asses off and drunker than maybe you should have been. "That's either brilliant or a fucking terrible idea." 

Michonne huffed out a laugh. "Then let's make sure it's brilliant." 

Rick caught your eye as they moved off in separate directions and nodded to Carol. You nodded back and then turned your attention to the tower. You had an idea and a very limited window of opportunity here.


	42. Lie #42: "It Could Be From Anything." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
past child abuse  
past domestic violence/abuse  
references to current domestic violence/abuse

Carol came to meet you in the road with her fake smile in place. "Heard about the party?" 

"Yeah, I need to talk to- hi, how was the casserole? They sent me to talk to you actually," you said, pausing to wave and acknowledge one of the women you'd met yesterday. Brainless airhead suburbanite, you thought viciously. Thought she was head bitch in charge, and maybe of these women, she was. 

Basically, the type who'd bullied you mercilessly in high school. 

High school was beyond unimportant right now, though, and you shoved thoughts of it aside and focused on Carol and the immediate problem. "Two things. One, the tower's empty and I have an idea, and two, tonight." 

"Rick in agreement?" Carol asked. "What do you mean the tower's empty?" 

"As in, there's an unmanned gun up there and that's it," you said, letting your disgust show. "Don't worry, as soon as I'm done here I'm going up there. Rick wants to sneak out and back you up." 

"He needs to be visible," Carol said instantly, glancing over her shoulder at the tower. "Unmanned? Children. They're children." 

You snorted at that, heading up the steps to duck into your house. "Yep. I told him no. I'll back you up." 

"You're too visible too," Carol countered. "You're Shane's girlfriend, and you're a bartender. They'll be expecting you to chat." 

"Damn it," you muttered. "Can't use Darrie. They're watching him like a damn hawk." 

"It's fine," Carol told you. "Go do what you can in the tower, but don't get caught. I'll do tonight alone. You know what's great about this place?" 

You lifted an eyebrow at her, already halfway back out the door. 

"I get to be invisible again." 

You laughed. "You're only invisible if other people are very stupid, Carol." 

"Exactly." 

The knock on the door was expected, but you still tensed. Will's hand landed on your shoulder, heavy and thick, and he pushed you toward the door. 

"Go on, ace in the hole. Ya cleaned up pretty as a picture, might as well use it." 

You glanced at Daryl, his shoulders tight and the bruise on his face that had started all this standing out stark cause he was pale as shit. Merle leaned on the wall behind him, eyes blank and hard, and the place was fucking spotless- because you'd made sure it was. Merle gave you a tiny nod, and you squared your shoulders and stepped to the door with a smile on your face. 

CPS would split you up if you didn't make it convincing. And you needed your brothers.

"Hi, Mrs. Sanders! It's nice to see you again," you said with a perfect smile as you opened the door. 

"Hello, Ace. How are you today? Is your father home?" Mrs. Sanders was nice, and she smiled at you now, but her eyes held tension. 

You nodded and stepped aside, and Will came forward with his schmoozing smile in place. "Mrs. Sanders. There's no need for this, I'm sure you'll agree. Daryl and Merle were just roughhousing, as boys do," he said, clapping Daryl on the back. 

You winced for him, since the CPS lady was looking right at him and he couldn't. That had to have hurt- which was Will's whole point. 

"Ran right into Merle's elbow, like I told ya," Daryl muttered. "Ain't nothin'." 

"Maybe not, Daryl," she said kindly, her eyes sweeping the place. "But it is the third bruise on your face this month, and the school gave us a call. So I get to come visit you guys for a bit today. Merle, are you staying out of trouble?" 

"Tryin' to, Mrs. Sanders," he said with a lazy grin. 

You gripped the hem of your shirt- clean and without stains or rips- as she wandered the living room and into the kitchen. 

"I'll be talking to each of you kids individually," she said, eyes busy. "You know the drill. Daryl, I'd like to start with you. Your room?" 

Daryl nodded and jerked his head, scuffing his feet as he headed toward your room. 

You ran rapidly through everything you'd done, wondering if there was anything you'd missed. You'd emptied the trash from the whole house, so there was no first aid shit in the garbage to be found. You'd cleaned everything. You'd washed all the laundry. Merle had stolen some shit to stock the fridge better and you'd made sure it sparkled on the inside. You'd put all the booze in an upper cabinet so it wouldn't look like it was just left around for the kids to get into. Ashtrays were cleaned. She wouldn't like the smoking but she wouldn't believe Will didn't do it either. You'd bullied both your brothers into showers, and taken one yourself. 

All that was left was keeping your story straight. 

You drew in a soft breath and tried not to think about wanting to kill Will in the middle of the night. 

You scooped up a notebook and a pencil and headed out to the gate, offering the man on duty a smile and a nod as you went. No one questioned you, and you didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Good for you right now; bad for this place in general. 

Honestly, Rick was right. They were damn lucky bastards, and they'd just gotten even luckier with your people here. 

You were ready to lie about what you wanted as soon as you got up there, but you were hoping you wouldn't have to. If you did, you'd have to try to memorize as much as you could, because mapping the sight lines in town would be impossible with someone looking over your shoulder. You had a good eye for detail- and remembering details- because hello, artist. But it wouldn't be complete, especially since you'd have to make some actual art while you did it or blow your cover completely. 

Thankfully, the tower was still empty. You let out a breath of relief and flipped open your notebook, scrawling the bare bones of a sketch of the Alexandria skyline on one sheet before flipping back to your maps. Only someone who knew your work- so one of your own people- would know how long it had taken you to do that, so cover in place, you settled down to business. 

The bird's eye view of the town and surrounding area was awesome, and you hit each window to take it all in and get a general sense of things first. Priority number one was checking the town, then if you had time, you'd do as much of the landscape outside the walls as you could. Sneaking around inside was more important that sneaking out, what with the hella casual attitude toward departures that the gate guard apparently had. 

You'd mention that to Shane as a security risk.

"We'll set up a rotation. Rick, Shane, and Michonne seemed to think it was a huge gap." Deanna's voice came from down below and you grimaced. Your pencil moved even faster, and you took one last long look to make sure you had it all right. Then you flipped to your rough sketch, lip caught in your teeth as you cleaned it up a little while climbing to your feet. 

The best defense was a good offense, and they couldn't tell you to leave if you were already heading out the door. 

You shoved the pencil behind your ear and tucked the sketchbook under your arm, fixing a bright, cheerful smile on your lips as you hit the bottom floor. 

"- but why isn't it enough to just prop the rifle, Mom, I mean-" The voice cut off as you stepped into the light. "Who are you?" 

"Hello, Ace," Deanna said, her tone highly suspicious. "What are you doing up there?" 

You shrugged. "I was sketching. It's a great view. You can really see everything up there, can't you?" 

"Yes. Yes, you can," Deanna agreed. 

You studied the man from the corner of your eye, knowing he was already studying you right back. Tall, dark hair, classic good looks and jawline. Probably a quarterback in high school, maybe track star as well, and probably ordered a stout. He'd make the face. You know, the asshole face. 

"Mom?" He asked, glancing at Deanna, who wasn't even trying to hide the way she was looking at you. Deanna's lips pressed together before she smiled again, glancing between you. 

"Oh, you haven't met. Spencer, this is Ace Dixon, one of Rick's people. Ace, this is my youngest son, Spencer." 

You flashed him a smile and decided not to counter the 'one of Rick's people' thing. It wasn't like she was wrong, after all. A snarl came from behind, and you whirled to see a single walker came staggering from the trees. 

"Spencer," Deanna said, but you'd already pulled your knife. 

You grabbed the blade and tossed it, and it spun three times in the air and drove home through the walker's eye. It dropped and you tucked your notebook under your arm as you strolled to retrieve your knife. 

"Holy shit," Deanna's son muttered behind you. "Mom, did you see that?" 

"I did. Hush." 

You grinned and pulled the blade, wiping it on the dead guy before you sheathed it. No 'W' on this one's forehead, you noted. That had been fucking weird. You scanned the trees nearby, just in case there were more walkers, but nothing moved. 

Spencer was checking you out hard when you turned around. You ignored him in favor of Deanna, whose eyes were narrowed in clear speculation, and you lifted an eyebrow at her as you strolled back up. "What?" 

"Why didn't you let Spencer handle it?" Deanna asked. 

Your lip curled. "Why waste a bullet? There was only one; I knew I could handle it." 

Deanna looked oddly smug. "I have a job for you." 

Your eyes widened. You had not seen that coming, especially not with the suspicious looks earlier. "I'm interested." 

"We need a sixth person on the supply crew. I think you'd be a good fit." 

Spencer frowned, glancing at his mother, but Deanna ignored him. Her politician's smile was in place, eyes steady on yours, and you tilted your head as you considered. "Why?" 

"Why what?" 

"Why do you think I'd be a good fit for supplies?" you asked, genuinely curious. You would be. Especially running with Glenn and Tara and Noah. But it seemed like a huge step, sending four of your people, clearly a unit, out with two of hers. Especially after that drama at the gate with whoever was supposedly in charge of that shit. And she hadn't come up with that right away, so- why? Why now? 

She smiled. "Because we need another person, and they need a calming influence who can make them a team. You can handle yourself, as you just proved, and you have a good head on your shoulders. Plus, you know people. You know how to smooth over ruffled feathers and get them working together." 

"Hmmm," you agreed. "I'm interested. We'll give it a test, see how it goes." 

Deanna nodded. "That's all I can ask, isn't it? Spencer, you need to get in the tower. I'll see you both at the party tonight. Ace, maybe you'll show us all your drawing," she added over her shoulder, tone pointed. 

You smiled brightly. "Maybe!" 

Yeah, she definitely thought you were up to something, you thought as she walked away. She just didn't know what. And it looked like you had a drawing to make good before the evening's festivities, as well as needing to clean yourself up and get Carol what you'd just learned. You started to follow Deanna and Spencer cleared his throat. 

"Ace, right?" 

You turned back. "That's right." 

He offered you a cocky smile. "You don't have to leave. You can keep drawing if you want. Company is always nice. Tower can get… lonely." 

You'd bet it could, you thought with a mental eye roll. What a line. The apocalypse had not improved anyone's game, it seemed. You smiled back and glanced toward the gate, relieved when it slid open and Shane stepped out, nodded to Deanna, and looked along the fence toward you. You waved, and he waved back. 

"Oh, I would, but- my boyfriend's looking for me," you said with a nod toward Shane. 

Spencer made a face. "Boyfriend, huh? How serious?" 

Your lips twitched and you bit your tongue to keep from laughing. "Deadly," you told him easily. "See you tonight!" 

The asshole who wouldn't take the hint leaned against the bar and kept trying damn hard to pick you up. He was drunk as hell already and you were starting to wonder if you were going to have to take his keys as well as possibly break his nose when he reached out and grabbed your wrist as you turned to grab a bottle and get back to work. 

"Hang on, sweetheart, I ain't done talkin' to you," he slurred, and you looked slowly down at his hand on your wrist and back up at him. 

Shit, you thought in despair. You really hoped Mal was too busy to notice this, but you didn't have that kind of luck, did you? You resisted the urge to glance at the stage, since any sign of guilt on your part would probably just make it worse. He was so fucking possessive sometimes, damn it. 

"Take your hand off my arm," you said calmly. "I'm working, and I'm not going to sleep with you. I think it's time to leave." 

The drunk frowned and pulled on your wrist instead, and you hissed when he tugged you off balance and into the edge of the worktop behind the bar. You had some bruises along your stomach that hadn't fully healed, and of course it hit them just right. "I'm a payin' customer. I'll keep your attention if I want it!" 

"Look, asshole, I'm a bartender not a hooker. Let go, or I'm calling security." Your eyes shot down the bar to where Tim leaned against the wall, distracted for the moment by something happening out on the dance floor. 

The drunk asshole looked more pissed, and you were done. You twisted your wrist and pulled, breaking his hold- not that it was hard- and stepping back. "Out. Before I call for Tim." 

"He's on his way," Jason said firmly from your shoulder. "I've got it, Ace. Go take a break." 

You didn't bother to argue, cause you needed a cigarette badly now. You looked up at the stage and found Mal's eyes hard on yours as you fished your pack and lighter from your pocket and headed toward the kitchen. 

You were going to be in so much trouble when you got home tonight. 

You found a dress, considered it, and rejected it. You didn't care if it was a party and you didn’t care if you were supposedly safe behind the massive wall- 

You were not going to get caught doing more running in a dress. Clean black jeans, a black tank, and a man's white button up tied at your waist would have to do. 

Since Shane had whistled and tried to convince you to stay home and in bed instead, you'd say you'd cleaned up nicely enough. So had Dickhead, you thought as you strolled along the street arm-in-arm with him. You could almost ignore the fact that you were both armed with knives and pretend you were wandering Atlanta together. 

"We still gonna be the best dressed couple at the party, you think?" you asked him, flashing a cheerful grin his way. 

He shook his head. "You're always the best dressed." 

"Ya disgustin', both of ya," Merle muttered from just behind you. 

He'd made an effort too, and he looked almost respectable. He'd rolled his eyes when you mentioned that to him and threatened to stay home. Since Daryl was currently nowhere to be found, you'd informed Merle that he didn't have a choice. And if he wanted to a job, he'd better play nice. 

"I'm a criminal, lil sister. Politician lady ain't gonna give ol' Merle no job," he'd muttered, but here he was walking along behind you and Shane. 

"Get your own girl," Shane muttered when Merle stepped up and tossed his arm over your shoulders. "This one's mine." 

"Shit, pig." Merle was trying not to laugh and you knew it. "Ya do know it's my sister, right? My girl before she was yours. But hell, maybe I will find me a woman. Plenty of new faces 'round here. Maybe one of 'em'll be friendly, ya know what I mean." 

Shane groaned and knocked on Deanna's door, glaring at Merle. "You will keep your damn mouth closed and your hands to yourself, you redneck bastard." 

"Hi, Spencer," you greeted Deanna's son as he opened the door. "Ignore the peanut gallery. This is Shane, my boyfriend, and Merle, one of my idiot brothers." 

"Welcome," Spencer said, smiling at you before stepping back and opening the door wider. 

As soon as you got in the door you saw Rick, Carl, Judith, and Carol, and- 

"Beer," Merle declared. "Shit, lil sis, night ain't a total waste." 

You slapped a hand over your face and tried to stifle the groan, but Spencer started laughing. "Beer, wine, and I think there's some whiskey around here somewhere," he agreed. "Can I get you something?" 

"I'll take one of them beers," Merle said immediately. "But don't tell Ace where everything is, or she'll be servin' everyone in no time." 

You wanted to be offended, but… 

"I'll build you a bar in the basement," Shane whispered in your ear, and you laughed. 

Deanna and Rick were talking to an older man when you walked up, and Rick clapped Shane on the back. Deanna smiled at you both as the older man held out a hand. "Shane, Ace, this is my husband Reg." 

"You built the wall," Shane said instantly. Rick, Reg, and Deanna chuckled, and Shane looked confused. 

"We were just talking about that as an accomplishment, versus keeping eighteen souls alive. Deanna insists it’s a tie," Reg said with a shrug. "I don't think that's quite the case. I watched your interviews," he said. "All of them." 

You blinked and reached up to chew on your thumbnail. You might have known Deanna had recorded them, but you didn't think any of these people would actually bother to watch. Shane pulled your hand away from your mouth and kissed your fingers, and Reg smiled. 

The doorbell rang again and you eyed the beer on the table. This was going to be a weird night, you thought. 

Mrs. Dietermeyer wanted a pasta maker. Another woman asked you about your art. Some knew you'd been a bartender and you laughed at a lot of bad jokes. Carol slipped out with barely a ripple when Olivia, the woman who handled the pantry and armory, showed up. You kept an eye on everyone's alcohol consumption and painted on your professional smile, blessing your ability to talk to anyone. You needed it tonight. 

Merle, Abraham, and Rosita were holding up a wall, and you were fairly certain they would be trouble after a few more drinks. Luckily, Rosita rolled her eyes at something Abraham said, snatched his cup from his hands while you watched, and downed the contents herself. She seemed to have it well in hand, and you glanced toward Noah, Glenn, Maggie, and Tara. They were grouped around a couch, talking together, and Maggie met your eyes and smiled. 

"I hate this shit so much," Shane muttered. 

You smiled tightly at him, happy he was back at your side. He'd been pulled away by a small knot of people wanting to get to know one of the new constables, and you'd taken the moment to catch your breath. You weren't used to this much small talk, you thought. Not anymore. "Yeah, I know. I'm rusty at it." 

Shane snorted and sipped from a glass with two fingers of whiskey and nothing to dilute it. "You're charming everyone here, Slugger." 

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Dickhead," you shot back, and he tucked hair behind your ear. 

"Your brother is fine. Everyone is fine. Only one of us maybe not fine is Judy, cause these people keep passing her around like she's a doll," Shane said softly. "Daryl's back at the house by now, probably brooding on the porch and cleaning his latest kill. Relax, sweetheart." 

You leaned into him when he slipped his arm around you. "Feels so weird. After everything." 

Judith started to cry and Shane sighed. You shook your head and gave him a push. "Go. Get your baby, use her as a human shield. I'm good." 

He rolled his eyes at you and headed off. 

You sipped from the bottle you'd been nursing all night and kept people-watching. Merle had put his own solo cup down and had a bottle of water shoved into his back pocket now, and you let out a small sigh of relief. Carl was talking to some teenagers, Shane had Judith, and everyone else was doing all right. 

A woman, blonde and pretty, walked up to Rick, and your eyes narrowed at the look on his face. She gestured to a man, who shook Rick's hand with a smile that sent a shiver down your spine and made your scar ache. The rest of the crowd faded away as you focused on them, studying the body language. 

Rick liked the woman. Like, he liked her a lot. Damn it, Rick, you thought. He was going to piss Michonne off so badly she might sleep with your brother. Plus, this woman was clearly married. 

And unhappy, you thought, eyes narrowing as her arms wrapped around her middle. The other man- you were guessing her husband- plucked the glass from Rick's hands and the woman's face flickered. The man stepped between her and Rick as she set a hand on his back, clearly offering to go get the drink for him, and the man turned to her and said something short and sharp. Rick's face flickered and the woman's closed down, and your lungs went tight.

Shit, that was going to be a problem. That already was a problem, you thought blankly as the woman rubbed at her arms and plastered on a nervous smile. She stepped closer to Rick and asked him something, and Rick was watching her with steady, wary eyes at odds with his into-her body language. 

The man wandered through the crowd, his smile bright and fake, and everyone seemed to have something to say to him. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, hoping like hell you were wrong, but knowing you were probably right. 

Sometimes, you wondered how Mal did it. How the hell could he pull your hair so hard your scalp still ached in the car on the way to a party, then flip a switch and be charming and friendly to everyone as soon as you stepped in the door? It was like he stepped into another person's skin, and suddenly he was the Mal you remembered from high school, instead of the asshole who'd made you cry. 

You'd fixed your face while he waited impatiently, and you drew in a deep breath now and smiled at the knot of groupies currently sleeping with the rest of Grave Behavior. "Hey, girls," you said brightly. "How's everyone doing?" 

"Ace! You and Mal look so cute together tonight!" Kira, a brunette who's main attraction certainly wasn't her brain and was on full display in the purple, skin-tight thing she was probably calling a dress, squealed as she grabbed your arm. She was clearly well on her way to drunk and you privately eyed Greg and wondered if he was drinking tonight too and you'd be driving them home while they humped in the backseat. 

"Aw, thanks!" you told her. "I tried to coordinate with him." 

The girls gathered around you, laughing and talking, and you heard yourself joining in. When Mal blew you a kiss and you pretended to catch it from the air, a foolish smile on your face while they sighed and went 'awwwww', a small corner of your brain stayed cold and distant. 

This is how he does it, a whisper informed you. The same way you do. You really do deserve each other. 

"Hey, sweetheart, you ok?" 

You opened your eyes and swallowed hard. Judy leaned against Shane's shoulder, but she perked up and reached for you when you smiled at her absently. You took her and settled her on your hip, deliberately keeping your back to the crowd. "Can we go soon?" 

Shane's look was worried. "We can leave right now. I'll take Judy to Rick."

"I can take her," a woman's voice offered. 

You looked over and saw the blonde Rick had been talking to earlier. She smiled at you, and you lifted an eyebrow in question. 

"Oh, sorry! I'm Jessie," she said with a laugh, brushing your arm with her fingers. "I met Shane yesterday, and I cut Rick's hair when you first got here. You must be Ace." 

"Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot you hadn't met yet," Shane said with a laugh. "Jessie's an artist, too." 

Of course she was, you thought. "Yeah? What do you use?" 

"Shane is being overly generous. I'm making a sculpture with my boys. It's an owl," Jessie said, rolling her eyes at Shane. "Rick knocked it over in a panic looking for Carl and Judith, and Shane wasn't far behind him- physically or mentally. I figured the kids were with the Millers, so I took our two deputies over." 

"What are you making the sculpture out of?" you asked, actually interested. You chose to overlook the urge to inform her that Shane, at least, was your deputy, not hers. Judith pulled on your hair and you untangled it from her fingers as Jessie smiled. 

"This and that. Whatever I find lying around. Ron and Sam are helping." 

You had to admit that sounded fucking cool. "I miss my airbrush kit so much. And chalk, and oils, and pastels, and charcoal- all I have is pen and paper, which is nice, but it's not spray paint," you said with a laugh. "Your owl sounds incredible. I knew this artist down in Atlanta who made miniature scenes from found objects. He'd hide them on the street, and we're talking tiny things, Altoid boxes or smaller. He was a photographer, and the miniatures were a side thing, but if people found them and brought one to his exhibitions, he'd give them one of his photographs. Because, according to him, it showed they were paying attention." 

Jessie laughed. "That's amazing. My owl isn't professional by any means, but we're having fun." 

"I'd love to see it sometime," you told her honestly. Carol slipped in through the front door and met your eyes with a tiny, almost unnoticeable nod. 

"Told you," Shane said to Jessie. "You still want to go, Slugger?" 

"Yeah," you agreed. "Do you mind taking Judy to Rick?" 

"Are you kidding? Do you know how long it's been since I've held a baby?" Jessie laughed as she took Judith from you, and you caught a glimpse of a mostly-healed bruise on her arm. 

It could be from anything, you thought as your scar burned again. It could be. 

Your eyes found the man she was with, and he was watching her closely as he drank. You reached for Shane's hand and held on tight. 

"Ok, Slugger, what's going on?" he demanded when you were on the street and halfway home. Night had fallen while you were in there, and you frowned at the dark houses and wondered where your brother was. "You're acting weird." 

Your lips pressed together and you shook your head. "Deanna asked me to join the supply team." 

"Alright," Shane said slowly. "I'm not the world's biggest fan of that idea, but we can fight about it later. Slugger." 

You grimaced and glanced around, stopping dead in the road and biting your lip as you met his eyes. "I can't prove this." 

"Ok." Shane's eyes stayed steady on yours and you could see the worry in them, but he waited for you to speak, his hand holding yours. 

Damn the man, he knew how to get you to talk these days. "Jessie. Rick likes her- poor Michonne; please don't sleep with Merle just for payback. And, her husband? He's- he's a problem." You could hear the panicky edge to your tone and you hated it.

Shane's eyes flashed and he touched your cheek. "Breathe, Slugger. Problem how?" 

You gave him a look and his face went hard. 

"Shit," he snarled.


	43. Lie #43: "Told You, I'm Fine." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
domestic violence/abuse

"I ain't happy about this, sweetheart," Shane called from the bathroom. 

You rolled your eyes and finished lacing up your sneakers, automatically glancing toward the side table and the baby monitor. Judith was awake, looking at her hands, but she didn't need attention yet. You went to lean in the doorway of the en suite bathroom- these houses were honestly ridiculous- and met his eyes in the mirror as he buttoned up his uniform shirt. 

"I know you aren't. Here, let me do that, damn it," you muttered, slapping at his hands as he scowled at you. 

"I mean it." 

You rolled your eyes as you did the second-to-last button. "Yes, I am aware. Are you wearing the tie?" 

"So a walker can fuckin' choke me? Shit," he muttered. 

Your lips twitched and you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as he frowned. "Then you're done. Rick and Michonne will tease you." 

"Rick's been teasing me my whole damn life, ain't about to be bothered by it now. Slugger, come on. You sure about this?" His voice went soft and serious at the end, and he touched your cheek with his fingertips as he leaned around you to grab a toothbrush. 

You sighed and grabbed yours as well. "I'm sure. Look, wonder of wonders, both of my brothers have jobs. Daryl spent all night putting together a goddamn motorcycle- he's very pleased with himself- and now he's going out for who knows how long with Aaron. And that's perfect for him, it is," you said, gesturing broadly with the toothbrush before Shane grabbed your wrist to squirt toothpaste on it. "But I'm going to be worried about him the whole damn time. And Merle, he's teaming up with Abraham on the expansion crew, and again, perfect. Sasha's going to be a lookout. That just leaves me without a job. And I did plenty of supply runs at the prison, so you can't tell me you don't think I can do it." 

You shoved the toothbrush in your mouth and started scrubbing, glaring at Shane. He was grinning at you around his own, and leaned forward to spit into the sink. 

"I know you can do it. I just don't want you out there without me as backup," he said before flipping the water on to rinse. 

You scowled around the toothbrush in your mouth. "No fair," you mumbled. "Can't argue while my mouth is full." 

"I don't know what you said, Slugger, but you're damn cute right now." Shane kissed your cheek when you flipped him off. "I know you're going, and I know you can take care of yourself. I just wanna watch your back." 

You touched his cheek and nodded, and he kissed your forehead and pushed you toward the sink. 

"Hurry up or you'll be late, and they'll ask you if it's cause we were fuckin'." 

You spat into the sink and yelled after him. "Well, we were!" 

Your brothers were in the kitchen exchanging insults, and you paused to watch for a minute as Daryl waved a crossbow bolt in Merle's direction. He was scowling, which wasn't a surprise, but you couldn't help the relief you felt at seeing even that much animation in his face. 

He'd been so unhappy here lately, and despite the glare, he actually looked alive. 

"Now, I done told ya, little brother, ya best bet is to mount yourself a nice holster under them handlebars, so's ya can-" 

"I ain't gonna need to-" 

"That's actually not a bad idea," you offered, coming the rest of the way into the kitchen. You kissed Merle's cheek and rounded the bar to Daryl, setting your chin on his shoulder and sneaking his cigarettes out of his pocket while he tried to shake you off. You danced back out of his reach when he noticed, taking two from the pack before tossing it back to him. 

You shoved one behind your ear and fiddled with the other. "That way, if you ran into trouble, you wouldn't have to reach as far." 

"See, little brother? I ain't got bad ideas after all! Ace approved!" Merle declared, slinging his arm around you. 

You grabbed the cigarette he tried to swipe from your ear and shot him a look. "You lose. Ok, you shits, I'm going to be late if I don't get moving." 

"Cause ya was too busy fuckin' the damn pig to get ya ass outta bed this morning," Merle called over his shoulder. "We all gotta run. You two watch yourselves out there." 

You heard the worry in his tone and exchanged a glance with Daryl as he rose. "You too. Watch Abraham's back, would you? And try not to offend anyone too much." 

Merle shot you a grin and shoved an apple into his mouth. "I'll do my best, darlin'. Get gone, both of ya. See ya tonight, sis, and Darylina- don't let that damn suburbanite get ya into shit." 

"Aaron ain't that bad. Knows what he's doin'," Daryl muttered. "I'll be careful. Come on, sis. I'll give ya a lift to the gate. Shane's already there." 

You groaned with the others in the back of the van when the funky electronic dance music started. "What the fuck is this?" 

"Another mix," Noah said in tones of deep disgust. 

"Draws them away," Glenn said with a shrug. "What are you gonna do?" 

"Yeah, Ace. Just buckle up and enjoy the ride." 

You eyed Aidan with distaste. Turns out the person supposedly in charge of supply runs was Deanna's older son, and he'd taken one look at you and done exactly what his brother had. Even after you'd kissed Shane goodbye, Aidan had decided hitting on you was the way to go. 

You were already questioning Deanna's sanity in putting you on this team and you'd barely made it out the gate. Aidan was the one Glenn had decked a few days ago, and you were seriously considering doing some decking of your own. 

Nicholas wasn't much better, and you ignored them both in favor of listening to Noah and Tara bicker. Tara wanted to know about Holly, one of the Alexandrians, and Noah was refusing to tell her anything. You considered telling her she was barking up the wrong tree there- Holly was definitely straight- but shit. They were having too much fun. 

"Glad you're here," Glenn said quietly, under the music. "Especially with Eugene along, it's nice to have hands I trust." 

You glanced back up at the front seat. "What, Douche Patrol not as good out there as they think they are?" 

Glenn snorted. "Yeah. Not hardly. Deanna thanked me for punching her son. Twice." 

"Probably because she knows you could have killed him and didn't." 

Glenn laughed and Tara complained loudly when Aidan hit a bump. Eugene protested once again that he was too much of a coward to be out there, and while you privately agreed with him, he was the one who knew what you were looking for. Something about fixing the power grid, cause it had started going out. 

You didn't know and didn't care, and you closed your eyes and tried to block out all the noise for a few minutes. You'd been up late worrying about Jessie and her children and arguing with Shane about going on this trip. Then you'd been up early making up after the argument. You needed a nap. 

"That's it there?" Tara asked as everyone checked their guns. 

"That's the warehouse," Aidan agreed. "Looks like that door's our fastest way in and out." 

"We should know all the exits first." Glenn's voice was as annoyed as you felt.

"Perimeter sweep, in pairs," you agreed. "I'll take the roof." 

"No, you're not going alone," Glenn disagreed immediately, which to be honest you'd expected. "But we need to have a plan if things go south." 

"There's already a plan. It's called going out the front," Nicholas said, asshole grin in place. 

You fought the urge to make a snide comment, remembering why Deanna had put you on this team to begin with. If you didn't want to go back to wandering around the place looking for trouble, you needed to pull this team together, starting with you. 

Actually, wandering around Alexandria looking for trouble sounded good. Why were you here again? 

"Noah," you muttered, nodding toward the walker rounding the corner. "You take that one." 

He nailed it with one shot and you flashed him a thumbs up and Glenn a nod of approval. Aidan the asshole handed a rifle to Noah and made a comment about his aim, and you rolled your eyes and deliberately relaxed your jaw. You shifted and murmured to Glenn. 

"We're doing a goddamn perimeter check. I'll do it myself if I have to." 

"Glenn and Ace are right. We should do a perimeter check. Know our exits just in case," Aidan declared grandly before Glenn could respond. 

Somehow, you ended up with the Alexandrians. Honestly, you weren't sure how. You'd intended to go with Tara and Eugene, but Aidan had called your name and gestured you with him and you'd done a rapid calculation of how much he needed to feel in charge verses how often you could get away with flatly refusing to do shit his way. 

You went with them. Glenn made a face at you as he and Noah headed the opposite direction and mouthed an apology. You waved him off and considered the best approach to handling Aidan. Was he just a douchebag with a power complex, or did he really believe he knew as much as your people did? If it was the latter, he'd start listening when proven wrong. Which ought to be any minute now, and might have already started. This perimeter sweep seemed to indicate that, at least to you. 

If it was the former- 

"Think this is far enough?" Nicholas asked. 

Aidan shrugged. "I mean, there's nothing so far." 

"Which doesn't mean there won't be anything," you countered, and shoved your way between them. You looped your rifle over your shoulder and headed for one of the rows of semi trailers lined up and waiting for their turn to ship out. "Stay down here. I'm going up and I'll take a look." 

"No. We'll go with you," Aidan disagreed immediately. "You shouldn't be on your own." 

"Pretty sure that's backwards but whatever," you muttered, already climbing up. 

On top, you scanned around, rifle back in hand, and turned to find- 

"Hey!" The word ripped out as you grabbed the rifle, jerking the barrel of it up and out of Aidan's hands. He staggered, pulled forward from where he was looking over his shoulder, and you glared at him. "Point this thing at me again and I'll shove it down your throat." 

He scowled as you shoved it back at him, but his expression returned to overconfident little shithead way too quickly. "She's got claws, Nick," he said to his partner, and winked at you.

"Listen here, you two morons," you hissed as Nicholas chuckled. "Look over there. See that? That's the front door you thought you'd just waltz out of. It's surrounded by walkers. You wouldn't last two seconds. When shit goes wrong- and it will, inevitably, go wrong- you will listen to me and to Glenn and Tara and Noah, and maybe, maybe you two will live. You think you're tough shit because you, what? Did ROTC? Fuck. You're a pampered douchebag and you barely know your ass from a hole in the ground." 

Aidan opened his mouth and you stepped into his space and looked him dead in the eyes. "The only reason you are alive is because you haven't run into any real threats. Watch where you point your gun, listen to the people who actually know what they're doing, and don't look at me like I'm a piece of fucking meat ever again." 

"Or what?" he blustered. "My mom's in charge, not you. And I'm head of supply runs." 

"You keep telling yourself that, honey," you said sweetly. "As for 'or what'? I've killed people, asshole. I don't mind adding more to the list, but you? You're not worth the bullet. Let's get back up front." 

You vaulted the side of the trailer, landed on a dumpster as Nicholas choked out a curse, and pulled your knife as you went, dropping down behind the single walker and sinking your knife into its temple before it could turn. You didn't look to see if they followed you. You honestly didn't care. 

"Not getting out the front," Glenn said grimly when you rejoined them. 

Aidan and Nicholas trailed you by a couple paces, blessedly silent. Glenn's eyes shot from you to them as you grunted. "Yeah, I noticed. Everybody cool?" 

"Yep," Tara answered cheerfully. "You know what I want? Gum." 

You couldn't help the smile. She had attitude and you loved it. "Juicy Fruit or Spearmint?" 

"Um, no. Big Red." 

Glenn rolled his eyes at you. "Maybe you'll get lucky inside. Point or rear?" he asked you when neither Aidan nor Nicholas spoke. 

You scanned the trees and shrugged. "I'll cover our asses. You take point." 

Glenn headed up the stairs to the back door, Aidan and Nicholas on his heels. You shot Aidan a look. 

"Point that thing at him and I'll shove it so far up your asshole you'll taste gunpowder for a week." 

Tara choked on nothing beside you, and Aidan glared. 

Maybe Deanna hadn't picked the right person for boosting team moral, you thought with a grimace. This was probably going to be the only run you went on. 

The warehouse was dark, gloomy, and to begin with, appeared empty. Since "appeared" was the operative word there, you watched everyone's asses and let Glenn handle Aidan. Deanna would pull you from supplies after this, but honestly. You'd rather be home and bored and maybe find someone's stash of spray paint than out here pandering to this ROTC- wannabe's ego and risking your people in the process. 

"Shhh!" Glenn's hiss and held-up hand had you freezing in place and listening, gun panning to the rear in case whatever he'd caught snuck around from behind. 

Faint clanking echoed, the muffled moans and shuffling that meant walkers with it. You made a face, because clearly this wasn't going to be easy. You tried not to think about the disastrous Big Spot run, or the near-disastrous run to West Peachtree Tech, or any of the other almost-a-complete-shitstorm runs you'd been on. 

"They're trapped behind something," Glenn whispered. 

"How do you know?" Aidan shot back. 

"Because they're not here." 

A few more corners proved Glenn right, and you glanced at each other as you passed flashlight beams along the cage. It was enough walkers you didn't want to deal with them, but the caged area seemed sealed, so you shrugged. "They're secure." 

"You really know your stuff," Aidan commented. 

Hand to god, you almost decked him right then. Instead, you held on to your fraying Dixon temper and growled out, "Yeah. That's why we're here, you lucky assholes." 

"Come on. Lets find the stuff and go before something goes wrong." Glenn shot you a look suggesting he knew what you were thinking and you rolled your eyes, picking an aisle to start looking for Eugene's shit. 

"Found it!" Tara's voice came from a few rows over and you started making your way there. You found Glenn and Noah first, glanced around for the two idiots from Alexandria, and of course they were nowhere. 

Tara patted a box and Eugene started to speak, and silenced gunshots popped. 

"Son of a bitch," you mumbled, turning and looking for the source. "The fuck are they- damn it." 

A walker in military uniform, complete with vest and riot mask, was stumbling down an adjacent aisle. Of course Aidan was shooting at it, and of course he keep shooting at the riot mask even though the bullets ricocheted off without leaving a dent. 

"Let it get close! Aidan, let it-" 

Glenn grabbed you and pulled you backwards. "Aidan, stop shooting! Stop!" he yelled. 

Aidan fired again, Glenn shoved you back, and- 

Your ears were ringing. You forced yourself to your feet anyway, shaking your head to clear it. Your whole body hurt from impact with the concrete floor, but you were moving, so that was good enough. Glenn coughed nearby and you headed toward the sound. 

"Hey, Rhee, get your ass up." You held out a hand and hauled him to his feet, going back to back and scanning the settling dust and smoke for your people or threats. "What the fuck just happened?" 

"Grenade on his vest," Glenn answered. 

"Perfect," you muttered. "Oh, fuck. He's- shit." 

You'd found Aidan. The blast had thrown him as it had you and Glenn, and Aidan hadn't landed on the floor. He'd landed impaled by the twisted wreckage of one of the massive metal shelves, two spears of shelf sprouting where metal was not supposed to be. He was either dead or passed out, and you wanted to hurl. 

"Tara? Eugene? Noah?" Glenn called. 

"Here," Noah answered, coming up beside you. "Oh, shit." 

"Yeah." You agreed. You were already squinting at the boxes and shelves between you and him when Nicholas' pale, terrified face appeared on the other side of the unit separating you. "Oh, good. He alive?" 

"He's dead. He's- he's dead," Nicholas stammered. 

"Cage is open. They're getting out," Glenn informed you grimly. 

"Here! Over here!" 

Tara was down, bleeding from a head wound, and the queasy roll of your stomach got worse. 

"Is she breathing? Eugene!" Glenn snapped. 

"I- I can't tell from right here," Eugene stammered. 

You and Glenn exchanged looks again, and you couldn't help thinking of the Big Spot and being pinned under a shelf. This situation was becoming entirely too familiar, and something had to change. You had an officer to get back to. 

"They're getting closer!" Nicholas yelled from the next row. 

"Walker!" 

Glenn was searching between the massive boxes to find the walker, and you shoved your flashlight into your mouth and started shifting them to the side. The something that needed to change needed to do it fast, so you figured you'd help it along there. 

"Eugene, it's yours. Take it out," Glenn instructed. 

He wasn't going to, and you knew it. He was a self-professed coward, and he'd relied on others- including Tara- to keep him alive. He didn't handle walkers, and he still hadn't answered the question of it she was breathing. 

Tara had saved Glenn and Merle. She wasn't dying in a warehouse because one idiot shot a walker with a grenade and another idiot couldn’t check her fucking pulse. 

You finally bulled straight through the boxes, shoulder up and like a linebacker. Shane would be proud, you thought absently as you rolled and hauled your now-aching body off the concrete floor for the second time. You pulled your Glock and double-tapped the walker stumbling close, not even sparing a glance Eugene's way as you headed for Tara. 

You vaulted another box and Eugene started yelling behind you.

"Get Tara!" Glenn called, ducking through the hole you'd created when you paused and looked back at Eugene. He was holding a walker just barely away from his neck, and Glenn grabbed the thing and flung it to the side as Noah came around the shelving unit as well to squash it's skull like a melon. 

You dropped to your knees beside Tara, your hands shaking as you checked for a pulse and breathing. Pulse was faint, but it was there. 

Thank God. 

Your arm was bleeding and so was your foot. It fucking hurt to breathe, but you'd won. Mal left when you'd climbed to your feet, laughed at the blood on your arm, and scooped your phone from the floor. He'd fucked up not making sure he got it away from you, and he knew when he'd lost. 

Thank god. If he'd hit you again, you might not have been able to deal with the damage on your own. 

You glanced around and sighed, shoving a shaking hand through your hair as you tried to decide where to begin. 

\--- Hey. You busy? 

Sending the text was a bad idea, you thought as you limped toward the bathroom and the first aid kit in there. Shane would know something was wrong, but the thing was, you were hurting and you wanted Dickhead to distract you. 

\--- Hanging at Rick's. What's up? 

You contemplated lying or just saying never mind, but- yeah. You were gonna have to put stitches in something tonight. You needed booze. 

\--- Didn't have the best day. Could use some cheering up. 

Goddamn you were a master of understatement, you thought, and limped toward the kitchen. 

\--- Rick's complaining about your ringtone, if that helps. What happened? 

You grinned, genuinely delighted. It actually did help, because the fucking pigs had been a stroke of genius and you'd won that round, thank you very much. Of course, you forgot about the rib that was honestly probably cracked and reached up to grab the emergency bottle of Fireball you kept on the top shelf. 

Your vision went white and hot at the edges and you grabbed at the countertop, phone clattering down. "Son of a bitch." 

When you could see again, you swigged straight from the bottle and texted with the other hand. You really needed to deal with your foot. You'd tracked bloody imprints of your toes across the floor from your bedroom to the bathroom and into the kitchen. 

\--- Caught Mal in bed with another girl. In my bed with another girl. My apartment, my bed, my sheets that I'll be burning.

\--- Shit, Slugger. I'm sorry. Want me to come over? I'll bring the matches. 

The response came in so fast you'd barely gotten a sip down, and you half-laughed as you knocked it back. 

Take it slow, Ace, you ordered yourself, setting the bottle down. You typed, deleted, and typed again. 

\--- Yeah, I wouldn't mind. I miss you.

You stared at it, finger hovering over the send button. If you said that, and he came, you'd have to get it all cleaned up in the next forty-five minutes, cause he'd turn the siren on and speed all the way here. You'd have to put on some shoes or something, and a long sleeved shirt, and you’d have to be so careful of how you moved, or he'd know. 

And since he'd probably end up in that very bed with you- or on the floor while you slept on the couch, since the thought of crawling into your bed made you want to hurl- he'd probably still see something he shouldn't. 

Then you'd have to explain, and there'd be yelling and it'd be even messier than tonight was. 

You sighed and deleted again. 

\--- No, it's late. I'm fine. Kicked him out, told him we were done. It got a little messy, though. 

"Just keep talking to me, Dickhead. Please?" you whispered, and limped back toward the bathroom. You took the Fireball with you, and sucked down another swallow as you sank onto the closed toilet lid with a groan. How the fuck were you going to do this? And what first? 

Maybe the getting the thing from your foot first was the way to go. 

\--- I'll bet. How messy? 

"Just a minute," you growled out, vision going white around the edges as you balanced your foot on the side of the tub and gripped the chunk of what had been your wine glass before the redheaded bimbo tossed it at Mal. 

That had really set him off. Mal was the only one allowed to throw things. 

"Goddamn it!" you yelled when you got it out, turning and dumping it into the sink. Your hands shook, but you slapped your towel against the bottom of your foot and texted Shane anyway, leaving blood on the keys. You'd clean that later, too. 

You sent the pic first, then figured you'd better explain or he'd be halfway to Atlanta anyway. Fireball burned on the way down as your fingers flew. 

\--- Dumb bitch objected to learning he had a girlfriend. There were many casualties in this war; including *my* wine, *my* wine glasses, and *my* hand-crafted brush holder. 

Which you were still pissed off about, you thought as you hit send. That had been a gift. You eyed the bottle, took another hit, and wondered if the Fireball helped make the lying easier. Nothing you'd said was untrue. 

Dumb bitch had objected. There had been many casualties. You'd just left out that most of the damage had been done by Mal, and you'd only snapped that pic while threatening to call the cops if he didn't leave. That'd be right before he knocked you into your dresser, tossed you down into that mess by the hair, and added the kick that gave you the trouble breathing. 

But he hadn't won, you thought, and toasted yourself grimly as your phone pinged again. 

\--- You hurt? 

"Aww, Officer Walsh, you know I'm not going to answer that question," you mumbled, and tossed whiskey over your foot while you lied your ass off. 

The pain definitely made it easier. 

\--- Told you, I'm fine. Just needed a friendly shoulder to bitch on, Dickhead. 

Your phone started ringing while you were repeating the whiskey process with your arm, and you seriously considered not answering. But again, if you didn't pick up, he'd be knocking at your door, and besides- 

You needed to put a couple stitches in your foot. Fireball would help. Dickhead's voice in your ear would help more. 

You ripped open the needle and put him on speaker. 

"Hey, Dickhead." 

"Hey, Slugger. Want me to come up?" 

You felt yourself smiling, held onto the warmth his instant offer brought, and stabbed the needle into your skin. 

"No, I'm- shit. I'm good."


	44. Lie #44: "I Could Sue You!" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
character death (canon)

You and Glenn got Tara laid down on the table in the office, Noah slamming the door seconds before the walkers followed you in.

"Who has the med pack?" you snapped, fingers moving lightly over the cut on Tara's head, probing to see how deep it was. 

"Aidan did," Noah said grimly. 

"Fuck!" You looked up at Glenn, then out to the walkers swarming the doors. "She needs medical attention. We've gotta get-" 

"Help! Help me!" 

Your eyes shot across the warehouse to the man impaled and currently screaming for help. His face was a mask of pain, and he moved weakly, like he was trying to get free. "Oh, holy hell," you breathed. "You said he was dead!" 

Nicolas looked shocked and sick to his stomach. "He was- he- he was!" 

"Shit," Glenn swore with feeling. 

"Agreed." You studied the door and the warehouse, then glanced down at Tara. "Glenn, we need the medpack. And-" 

"Can't leave him out there," Glenn agreed. "Eugene, you stay here. Keep her alive, you understand me?" 

Eugene nodded, his eyes terrified. 

"We can't go out there!" Nicholas yelled it, panic all over his face. You turned to him with a sneer, but Glenn took over. 

You left him to it and squinted out at the warehouse. How the fuck were you going to do this? "Glenn, you boys handle the walkers. Fire that flare Nicolas has over the shelves. I'll get to Aidan."

Glenn stopped talking and he and Noah were both looking at you dubiously. You shrugged, and Glenn sighed. "Ok. I don't like it, but ok." 

"We can handle it. There aren't that many. Knock them away from the door, then go hand to hand. I'll bolt," you said cheerfully. False confidence was as good as the real thing, right? It was going to have to the be. 

It worked better than you'd thought it would. 

You left the fighting to Glenn and Noah- and the idiot who didn't know a dead man from a live one- and vaulted a couple of boxes on your way to Aidan. You skidded to a halt at his side and studied the damage, your stomach churning again. "Hey, man. You gotta stay quiet, ok? There's a flare distracting them right now, but it won't last long." 

Aidan swallowed hard and nodded, and Glenn's hand tapped your shoulder as the other three joined you. 

"We need to pull him off," you said slowly. It was a death sentence, and you knew it. But so was leaving him here to be eaten. The only way to save him would be to keep the shelving pieces in him until you got him to a doctor, and that wasn't going to happen. 

Glenn nodded, and he and Nicolas took up positions with you. One pull and Aidan wailed, the pain too much for him to stay silent through. 

And it wasn't like you blamed the man. Your stomach threatened to upend everything you had inside at the thought of how fucking agonizing that had to be, but- 

"The flare! It's burning out!"

"We're not gonna make this," Nicolas declared. 

You ignored him, but Glenn, of course, did not. While Glenn was talking him down yet again, you dropped to your knees, looking behind Aidan at the unit. You climbed back up slowly, knowing he was lost. He wasn't going anywhere, and if you guys didn't move, neither were you.

You had a deputy you'd sworn to get back to, and you reached for the knife at your side. Whatever it took, and Aidan was dead anyway.

"Come on," Glenn snapped. He and Nicolas took hold of Aidan again, pulling as Noah fired on the walkers you could hear approaching. You agonized for another long moment, because this was a person. He deserved every chance to live, right? 

But not at the cost of your own. 

"You left them. We both did. That's who we are. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

You blinked when Nicolas hissed the words at Aidan and ran, Glenn grabbing at him to try to get him to stay. Glenn whirled back to Aidan, tugging on his shoulders, and Noah's voice was getting worried when he said the walkers were coming.

"It was- it was us. The others before. They didn't panic. We did. It was us." Aidan stilled Glenn's hands when he tried to pull him free again. "No. Go." 

Yeah, that was enough for you. You grabbed Glenn's shoulder as Noah shouted "They're here," pulling him away from Aidan and the walkers swarming over him. Aidan screamed as the first teeth sank in, and while you didn't know what others he was talking about, you could deduce. 

He and that other asshole had left their own to die. Their first crew, the ones your people were replacing. And they'd still acted like- 

"Shit," you mumbled. You pulled you Glock, turned, and fired once. 

Aidan slumped, the screaming coming to a merciful end. 

"Nicolas, stop! No!" Glenn yelled in warning as soon as he realized which was the idiot had run. 

You grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt, glaring at his wild face. "Glenn. He's dead if he goes that way. Leave him. It's what he'd do to us." 

"That's not who we are," Glenn snarled. His eyes were wild, and he ran a hand over his face as he pulled free from you. "It's not who we are!" 

You and Noah glanced at each other, and you were thinking about Tara and Eugene back in the office and how to get back to them. You turned back to Glenn and sighed. "Goddamn it." 

He was already moving again, running after Nicolas. "Hey! You'll never make it!" 

Nicolas could burn in the fires of hell, but Glenn? Glenn was one of yours. Sorry, Shane, guess there is a line, you thought as you charged after him.

"Heads up," Noah called, passing Glenn and heading for the walker.

You grabbed your knife- one of several stashed on your person thanks to your brothers and Shane- and hurled it at the one approaching from the other side. A glance out the front showed Nicolas standing frozen on the far side of one of those rotating doors with the four sections that were supposed to make traffic flow easier and somehow never did. You grimaced at the walkers back there and the ones now coming up and- 

"I'm out!" Glenn yelled, his gun clicking as he pulled the trigger. 

There was only one option, and it was shit. But here you were. 

You grabbed Glenn by the collar and shoved him into one of the doors just as Nicolas the idiot did the same from the other side. You shoved Noah in after Glenn, forced them to spin it while Glenn yelled something at you in a panicked voice that you completely ignored, and ducked a walker. You slammed the butt of your gun into its head and eyed the rest as you wondered what the fuck you were going to do now. 

"Didn't think this all the way through," you mumbled, then leveled Nicolas with a glare. "Turn it! Just enough for me to-" 

He shook his head and you drop-kicked another walker back as Glenn screamed at him some more. You were starting to get worried, and considering trying to duck and run the other way as you emptied the rest of your Glock's magazine into the them and oh, wow, you had not cleared this warehouse as well as you thought. 

"Ace!" Glenn's scream cut through the chaos, and you glanced back to see just enough of a sliver open for you to maybe slip through. 

You mumbled a quick prayer to a God you didn't believe in and ducked through just as Noah and Glenn were forced to close it against the walkers from the outside. You yelped as it caught your ankle, but you managed to wiggle your foot out of your battered sneaker and slip the rest of the way inside about two seconds ahead of a walker's teeth. 

"Ok, Dickhead," you mumbled as you half-lay against the glass and tried to breathe. "Maybe you're right. If I'd had Converse, that wouldn't have worked. Shit. Shit, that was too close." 

\--- Look, I don't care how broken in they are, paint covered Converse are not appropriate, you heathen

You wrinkled your nose at your phone. "But-" 

\--- Don't 'but Dickhead' me; I'm right and you know it. 

You blinked. "Ok, how the fuck did you do that?" You glanced around your room with narrowed eyes, like maybe Shane was hiding in the wide-open closet. 

\--- you spying on me now, or just reading minds? 

\--- I just know you too well. Come on, you know you're dying to text me pictures of every pair of shoes you have and ask my opinion. Don't you have girlfriends for this shit? 

You bit your lip and glanced at your closet and the shoes you had lined up. How did you tell him you only had a handful of female friends and you worked with most of them? Actually, come to think of it, you only had a handful of friends, period, and accept for Dickhead himself, you worked with all of them in one way or another. That was depressing. 

\--- they're all at work. And you're right. Brace yourself. 

You snapped pictures of the best options and sent them to him, staring at the ensemble you had laying on your bed and waiting. You weren't sure why you were asking Shane for help getting ready to go out with Mal, especially since you and Mal weren't together right now. Mostly you just wanted to talk to Shane, you guessed. 

This party was important for Grave Behavior, though, and you figured you could give up an evening to go. Damn it. 

\--- You need friends who don't tend bar. Look, I'm don't know why you're going out with him when you're not even together, but I'd probably stop breathing if you showed up in those strappy gold things. Especially with how short that damn dress you sent me earlier is. 

\--- …. Those were my favorites too. Still think my paint shoes are a better choice. 

\--- I know you do, Slugger, but if you're gonna play arm candy, do it well. Shit, I gotta go, got a call. 

\--- Be safe, Dickhead. 

You shoved to your feet and looked from one side to the other. Walkers pressed up against the glass to both sides of you, and turning the doors would get Glenn and Noah killed even if you could get rid of the walker problem to one side. 

In summary, you were all well and truly fucked. 

"This? This is what happens when you're a moron and don't listen," you snarled at Nicolas, temper bubbling up and boiling out at the wild panic in his eyes. 

This was not how you were going to die. Not here, not now, not today. You had not just found a new safe haven only to get eaten alive. You had a promise to keep, and you were getting back to your Dickhead, damn it. If you had to sacrifice someone to do it, well. You knew who you'd select. 

You scoffed when he didn't say anything, turning to meet Glenn and Noah's concerned looks across the way. You lifted one eyebrow in question, and Glenn shook his head. He didn't have any ideas either, damn it. 

Weird electronic dance music drowned out the sounds of the dead and for a moment you genuinely thought you were losing your mind. Then you remembered the van, and you turned wild eyes to see Eugene banging on the side and yelling. Hope sprang up that maybe you'd all make it out of this one alive- well, except for Aidan- as walkers started ambling away from the doors to follow the loud, yelling, slowly leaving van. 

There were only a couple of them lingering on the outside and you shoved a hand through your hair. "Ok. Ok." 

"Ace." 

You turned to Glenn, already wondering how the hell you were going to pull this off. "Can't turn without exposing the other side." 

"Yeah," He agreed. "We need to hold it steady, and break the glass. Kill the last few and make a run for it. You got any ammo?" 

You blinked, popped the mag from the Glock, and started laughing. "Nope. You?" 

"No, I'm out. Ok, I'll use the rifle to break it. It'll take longer, but you two and Noah can hold it." 

You shrugged, holstered the Glock and flashed him a grin. "Good a plan as any. Let's do this." 

"What? What?" Nicholas' panicked voice had you eyeing your cellmate with distaste. "You're going to what?" 

"We're going to make sure the doors don't rotate. Glenn's going to break the glass on his side. He and Noah will duck out, then we'll turn it so we can get out. Help me brace," you ordered him, shoving him toward the side the walkers were pressed against. "It's gonna move when he its it, but we can hold it." 

Thankfully, Nicolas did as you ordered. You looked over at Glenn and nodded, and he slammed the gun into the door. 

Your side swung partway open and reaching fingers pushed their way in. Nicholas started screaming immediately, turning into a useless lump, and you kicked and elbowed and pulled on the door until you got it closed again. 

"You good?" Glenn called. 

"Yeah! Again?" 

"What? You can't- no. You can't do that again. It won't work. It won't work!" Nicholas grabbed at your arm and you shook him off you. 

"Listen to me! Breathe! It will work. We can do this. Ok? We just have to work together." Glenn's voice was soothing and calming and once again you wondered just why Deanna thought you would be a good fit for this team. You'd done nothing to bring everyone together but threaten the idiots and shoot her son in the head. 

Glenn had gotten Nicolas to calm down, though, and you braced against the door again. "Count of three, ok? One. Two. Three!" 

Instead of the door jarring, something slammed into your head and you went down hard, unable to help the pained cry as you fell. You knew you needed to get up, hold the door, respond to the screaming, but your vision swam and there honestly was nothing you could do. 

"Oh, shit," you mumbled, opening your eyes and squinting blearily up at the sky. "What the hell?" 

"You probably shouldn't move," a familiar voice said dryly. "You just took a header off a fire escape. I didn't think you disliked me that much, Dixon." 

You groaned again. "Casey?" 

"Officer Casey, please." He leaned over, his eyes concerned behind the annoyed exasperated expression. His fingers probed at the back of your head and you winced. "You're going to have a spectacular bruise. Need me to call an ambulance?" 

"Help me sit up," you ordered, and he slid a hand behind your shoulders. Your head swam for a minute before your vision steadied. "Ok, that's not bad. I think I'm good." 

"You sure?" 

"Well, I'm not standing yet," you answered honestly. "But I can see, and I'm fairly certain all my cognitive functions are in place." 

Casey snorted. "Sit still for a minute. I'm going to poke at your damn hard head some more. This is what you get for running from the police." 

You didn't say anything to that, taking the opportunity to close your eyes and take a quick mental check to make sure you were, in fact, ok. You also cast a surreptitious look around to see where your gear bag had landed. There was some expensive shit in there. 

"Ok, your skull seems in tact. Want to try standing?" Casey asked. 

You grimaced. "Sure, why not?" 

He steadied you as you climbed slowly and carefully to your feet, a hand under your elbow when you swayed. The world steadied fairly quickly again, and you flashed him a grin. 

"Thanks, Officer. I guess I'll be on my way now," you said cheerfully, stepping toward the bag you could see on the ground. 

Casey snorted, shifting his grip from your elbow to your wrist. "Really? No. You're under arrest, Dixon. You have the right to remain silent, and for once, please use it." 

"Damn it, Casey! I fell off a fire escape! I could sue you!" 

"For what?" he fired back, snapping cuffs onto your wrists while you scowled over your shoulder at him. "You're the one who ran!" 

"Because you scared me!" 

He rolled his eyes and went to grab your bag, slinging it over his shoulder while you glared at him. "Just head back toward the car, would you? Why do you make everything so difficult?" 

"Aw, you love arresting me and you know it," you said with a wink. "How's the wife?" 

"Pregnant," he said, and you heard the smug delight in his tone as he grabbed your elbow and got you walking. 

"Seriously? Shit, man! Officer Daddy. Congrats. Tell her I said so." 

"Nicolas, no! No! Ace! Shit!" 

You blinked rapidly, trying desperately to clear your vision as you staggered to your feet. When the world finally, blessedly steadied, you were alone in your side of the door, and it was- 

"Fuck!" 

The word ripped out of you, because the door was open to the outside, which meant- 

You spun too quickly and the world went technicolor again, and when it settled you almost wished it hadn't. Glenn held Noah's arms and was struggling to keep him from being pulled into the mess of walkers, their side open to the horde. You flung yourself against the door, spinning it as far as you could in an effort to get the walkers' grip on Noah to break. 

"Glenn! Noah! Shit! What can I- goddamn it!" you yelled, helpless to do anything but strain against the door and watch. 

"Ace, don't move! Hold it there!" Glenn called back. 

You pushed harder, throwing your full weight against it and mumbling a steady stream of cuss words that even Merle might have raised an eye at. Glenn and Noah strained, Noah kicking out at the walkers, but they were losing; you all were. 

And then, to your horror, you watched as Noah slipped from Glenn's grip. The walkers pulled him into them; they stopped pressing against the door; and your weight against your side swung it closed so hard you were almost launched inside. You scrambled away from hands of your own as Glenn yelled and Noah started screaming, and- 

And the doors steadied again, you and Glenn on opposite sides and Noah pressed against the glass. Trapped. 

With the walkers. 

Glenn sank down and you stared as Noah got ripped apart. 

"Glenn," you croaked through your raw throat. "Glenn, we have to go. We have to." 

He sat, curled and staring. Noah had stopped screaming, blessedly, and the walkers were distracted. Now was the moment. He turned blank, horrified eyes your way and you held them grimly. 

"I'm going to swing my side in. You slip out, and I'll follow you." 

"No. No, Ace, you can't-" Glenn began to protest, climbing to his feet. 

You shrugged. "One of us has to. They're distracted. It'll be fine if we move fast. Count of three, ok? One, two, three!" 

You didn't give him time to think, and he reacted like you'd expected. He was free before the walkers noticed the doors had moved, and you flung yourself against them and staggered free as well, deliberately not looking at what held their attention. 

Glenn grabbed at your arm. "Are you ok? He hit you hard." 

You shrugged, pulling your knife and heading the same way the dead man had gone. "I'll live. I'm moving. Come on." 

Nicolas didn't know it, but he was a dead man walking. You grimly shoved aside Noah's screams, the look on his face as he slammed against the glass and the look on Glenn's as he stared at Noah while being ripped apart. 

Yeah, Nicolas was dead. 

You rounded the corner of the building and scoffed in utter disbelief. Nicolas had Eugene at gunpoint, hauling him out of the van and tossing him toward the ground. Glenn muttered a curse and grabbed at your arm as you started forward, but you brushed him off with a snarl and broke into a run. 

You hauled Nicolas out of the driver's door and shoved him back. He staggered, looked at you wildly, and started to speak, hands up. You had the knife heading toward his stomach, ready to rip him open navel to throat and let him see what dying in agony felt like, but Glenn's fist slammed into Nicolas's jaw and the asshole went down like a sack of potatoes. 

You whirled on Glenn, who glared at you with a hand held up for peace. "What the hell, Rhee?" you snarled.

"Help me get him in the van." 

"No. He stays here," you shot back, lost in the red haze of Dixon temper and horror. 

Glenn grabbed your arm and snatched the knife from you, and you hauled off and clocked him in the cheek, missing your target- his nose- because he shied back. But he got the knife from you and glared, pointing firmly toward the back of the van. "Help me get him in the van. We need to get Tara back." 

You flinched and felt the rage starting to drain away. "Shit. Shit. Tara. Eugene, get the asshole. Glenn's driving; I'll check on her." 

Glenn nodded and handed you back your knife, squeezing your shoulder as he moved toward the driver's seat. 

"Glenn." 

He paused and waited and you stared at Nicolas as Eugene hauled him up and half-drug him toward the back of the van. You looked back at Glenn and sighed, running a hand through your hair and shoving your knife back into the sheath on your belt. 

"Don't tell Shane what he did, or he won't live."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say for myself except this has been the worst month, and this past week has been Hell Week. Sorry, guys. Thanks for hanging in there with me anyway


	45. Lie #45: "I Gotta Watch My Mouth, Or Your First Word Is Gonna Be An Expletive." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence
> 
> domestic violence  
mentions of past domestic violence  
child abuse  
mentions of past child abuse

He spent most of the day watching the sun, wandering the walls, and worrying about Ace. Sure, his Slugger could take care of herself, but that didn't mean he didn't want to be there to take care of her too. He studied the movements of the people in town, trying to get a feel for routine around here. Cop's best friend was knowing when something was normal for a place, and when it wasn't. Normal around here seemed to be lazy, sedate suburban life like before. Just with the occasional shot ringing out from Sasha in the tower and less food. Damn, he was already bored. 

He was near the gate when Tobin's truck pulled through, and he frowned as the man jumped out and headed straight into Deanna's townhouse. Something had happened with the work crew, and since Abraham and that redneck idiot Merle were both on it, Shane could guess the "something" had to do with the two of them. He caught Rick's eye when his brother wandered around the corner, clearly lost in thought, and waved him over with a jerk of his head. Rick lifted an eyebrow when he reached Shane's side. 

"What's goin' on?" 

Shane nodded in the direction of Tobin's truck. "Tobin's in charge of the work crew for the expansion. He just came in, looking like somebody shit in his cornflakes, and headed straight in to Deanna's." 

"Abraham and Merle are out there, aren't they?" Rick asked, rubbing a hand across his forehead like he was getting a headache. 

Shane could sympathize. Merle Dixon had been the source of many of his headaches, and now he had a sidekick with as much enthusiasm and as little self-control as Merle himself. "Yeah." 

"Shit." 

Shane flashed Rick an amused smirk. "Yeah." 

They both leaned on Tobin's truck and waited for him to come out. 

When he did, he ran a hand through his hair and looked at the two of them. 

"Everything alright?" Rick asked easily, his affable cop voice making Shane think about squad cars and blue lights and a badge. He bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to smile, especially with the look in Tobin's eyes. 

Man looked defeated and awed. It was an odd combination. 

"Something happened out there," Tobin said slowly. "Walkers came." 

Shane tensed immediately, looking at Rick and at the gate. "How many? Don't tell me you're the only one-" 

"No, no," Tobin interrupted. His tone chagrined, he waved a hand in apology. "Sorry. Everyone's alright. But not because of me. It's because of your people. Abraham and Merle." 

Shane relaxed slightly, but not by much. "What happened?" 

"We were working. On schedule; everything was going fine. Then Bruce starts screaming, running back around one of the trucks with his pants around his ankles. Herd was coming." Tobin paused, shaking his head. "In the chaos, someone hit a button and Francine was knocked from her perch in the scoop of that old digger. Walkers all around her, and she hurt her ankle when she fell. I- I ordered a retreat to the trucks. Let the herd pass." 

"You were gonna let her die?" Rick sounded as pissed as Shane felt, and Tobin looked ashamed. 

"I was. Your people said, if I recall correctly, 'fuck that'." 

Shane laughed. "Sounds like Merle and Abraham." 

"They saved her. Killed most of the walkers between the two of them. The rest of us, we lit the dead bastards up when we realized what they were doing, but they did work. For a man with one hand, Merle sure can kick ass," Tobin said with a grimace. 

That was Ace's brother, right enough. 

"So why are you back here? Where is everyone else?" Rick asked. 

"They're still out there. I suggested we pack it in. Call it a day. Abraham- he gave a speech, posted two more lookouts, checked on Francine's ankle, and got everyone working again. I came back to report to Deanna, and to ask her to make Abraham Foreman." 

That had Shane shifting, glancing at Rick cautiously to find him looking back with a cool, blank expression. Shane knew his partner was wondering how this was going to affect things with Deanna, cause that's what Shane was wondering as well. Another of theirs in a position of authority was a good thing- for them. 

Ace would get that Cheshire-cat smile and declare that it was another step in taking over without using the guns Carol had stolen. Jesus, his girl was bloodthirsty these days. Also, she needed to get her ass back here, he thought as he glanced at the sinking sun. Shit. 

"Well," Rick said slowly, clapping Tobin on the shoulder. "I'm glad everyone is ok." 

Tobin nodded and smiled slightly. "We're glad you and your people are here, Rick. Shane." He nodded to both of them and jumped into the cab of his truck to get it parked. Shane and Rick glanced at each other and started to walk. 

"So, what else went wrong today?" Shane waved to a resident, one of the soccer moms Carol made casseroles with and Ace had called vapid and bitchy. She waved back enthusiastically, and Shane scoffed. "These people are happier to see cops than I remember anyone ever bein' before." 

Rick snorted. "Most of them, at least. Someone knocked over Jessie's owl." 

Shane looked over to find Rick staring firmly straight ahead, eyes hard and face closed off. "Goddamn it, brother, we are gonna have to have us a talk about her. You find anything out?" 

"Asked a bunch of questions. No one saw anything." 

Shane sighed. "I notice you're ignoring my demands to talk. Fuckin' Amy all over again, man. It was her husband, wasn't it?"

Rick shot him a sharp look. "What makes you say that?" 

"Ace. She got a vibe. Nothing she can prove, of course, but-" He cut off, angry all over again at the look in Slugger's eyes; the sound of her voice. Malcolm fucking Hall might have been dead twice over, but it still wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, and Shane fought to control the rage and calm the fuck down. Rick was enough of a mess over Jessie already, he didn't need Shane feeding into it. "Anyway, she thinks there's something going on there. And I trust her instincts, man." 

"So do I," Rick agreed grimly. "Especially when they're the same as mine. He raises a hand to her in front of me-" 

"Shit," Shane muttered as Rick's hand clenched around his knife before his friend stalked off abruptly. "This ain't gonna end well." 

Merle and Abraham led the work crew back, tired and dirty and bloodstained. All of them were smiling. Abraham helped Francine from the truck and ordered her to go get her ankle checked out as Shane wandered up and gave Ace's brother a flat stare. 

Merle had blood up to his elbow, splashed liberally across his face, and on the knees of his pants. He shot Shane a crooked grin and slapped him on the back. "Good day, pig! Got everything done an' then some!" 

"You're an asshole," Shane informed him dryly. "How bad was it?" 

Abraham joined them as Merle scoffed. "Weren't bad at all. They's just panicked some. We got their heads straight, ain't that right, tank man?" 

"We did. They're lucky bastards, though," Abraham said in a low, serious voice. "We hadn't been there, they'd have lost Francine at least. Maybe more." 

"Yeah," Shane muttered. "That's been going around. How lucky they are." 

Judy babbled happily at him while he tried to convince her to eat some more damn applesauce. She kept turning away from the spoon, wrinkling her nose up in a perfect expression of distaste. 

Shane started laughing as he dropped the spoon back into the jar. "Damn it, sweetie. I can't even say I blame you. I'd be sick of the stuff too. Alright, why don't we try to see if your idiot uncles left anything in here we can turn into baby food, hmm?" 

He opened the fridge as she babbled something at him and he grunted. "I don't know what you just said, but why the fuck is there raw meat in a damn bowl, just open to the air? That can't be sanitary. Shit, I gotta watch my mouth, or your first word is gonna be an expletive, and won't Daddy Rick have something to say about that? Damn." 

"Shane." 

He turned, not at all surprised that Carol had managed to get into the house without him knowing. He managed to stay calm, cause hell if he would give her the satisfaction of jumping out of his skin and going for a weapon like he wanted to. Her face was cool and blank, and Shane set down the peas he'd found and rounded the counter. 

"What's wrong?" 

Carol's lips pressed together. "There was an incident. You need to go to the infirmary." 

"Slugger," he whispered, already moving toward the door. "Carol, can you-" 

"I've got Judy; but Shane, she's ok. She's just getting checked out, in case. But it was bad," Carol said quietly, her hand on his arm. "Things went wrong." 

Shane nodded, shoving a hand through his hair as he wrenched open the door. "I'll be back. Love you, little girl." 

He made it halfway there, ignoring greetings from Alexandrians as waves of fear and fury swept over him. Then he let out a long, hard breath. 

Rick and Merle were hovering around her and Glenn, Merle's face cautious and Rick with his cop eyes hiding a rage that might have matched Shane's in that moment. Glenn and Ace looked exhausted and devastated, and Shane swallowed hard as he stopped and waited for them to get to him. There was more blood on Ace's shirt that Shane liked seeing, even if he could tell by looking at her that it didn't belong to her.

Carol had been right. Whatever had happened, it hadn't been good. 

Ace leaned a little on Merle as she walked, and Shane saw Merle's lips move before he gestured ahead toward Shane. He wondered if she'd had her eyes closed, because she lifted her head from his shoulder and Shane saw the way she slumped even further before bolting for him. 

"I'm ok, Dickhead," she said immediately. But she also buried her face into his neck and held on tight, and the sinking feeling in Shane's stomach only grew. 

He twinned his fingers around her blonde ponytail, his other hand tracing absent shapes on her back. He looked at the other three and his tone was harsher than he'd intended. "What the fuck happened?" 

"Settle down, pig," Merle ordered. "Ain't gonna be the voice of damn reason for long, ya hear? Already calmed ya better half down once. Shit went down, that's what happened. Lil sis took a bump to that damn hard head of hers, but she's fine. Got the Dixon skull, too fuckin' thick for our own good, ya know. Tara's unconscious in the infirmary, Nicolas has a fine-ass shiner, and Aidan and Noah are gone." 

"What?" 

Ace shivered in his arms and Shane winced. He hadn't meant to sound quite that… murderous. But Ace had gotten hurt, Tara was unconscious, and they'd lost two of their team? Including the man Beth had died for? 

Shane was pissed. Someone was going to pay, goddamn it. 

"Shane, settle down," Ace whispered against his neck. "I'm ok."

"And that's a damn good thing, Slugger, but I still wanna know what the fuck happened to make the opposite a possibility," he snarled. 

"Not here," Merle said firmly. "Take Glenn and lil sis on inside; I'll assemble the family. Feed 'em both; then we'll talk. Shit. Use ya fuckin' eyes. They done had some trauma today." 

Shane took a harder look at Glenn and grimaced. He met Merle's eyes and nodded, and the redneck rolled his in response and pointed his stump arm toward the house. 

"Go. Lil sister an' the Korean kid are about to fall the fuck over." 

Glenn stirred slightly, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. "Fuck you, Merle, I'm- wait."

Merle laughed long and hard, slapping Glenn on the back as he walked off to round up their people. Glenn squinted after him and turned to Rick in confusion. 

"He got it right?"

Rick shook his head. "Just roll with it," he advised, herding Glenn toward the house.

Ace didn't like it, but Shane hustled her up the stairs and to bed when the family started gathering and he noticed the pinched look in her eyes. 

"Headache?" he asked her softly, and she'd nodded. 

Glenn looked over her way, his hand locked in Maggie's. "You took a hard hit. I'm not surprised." 

Ace shot him a glare, rolled her eyes, and declared that she was fine, but Shane took matters into his own hands. He rose, her in his arms since she'd been curled in his lap, and went for the stairs. "I'll be back," he called over his shoulder. 

"Damn it, Dickhead," Slugger had mumbled, but she lay her head on his shoulder and didn't protest any more, which told Shane everything he needed to know. 

He leaned against the porch railing and stared blankly at the darkened windows of the next house over as Glenn told him and Rick what had happened. He'd given the whole group a quick version, but Shane and Rick had known that wasn't all there was to the story. 

Shane almost wished he didn't know the whole thing. 

"She said not to tell you, because you'd kill him," Glenn said softly. "Thing is, Shane, you can't. Maybe once we could have, and it would have been right. But not now." 

"Why the fuck not?" he snarled. "Bastard left her to die! Got Noah killed! Beth died to save that kid, and this asshole thinks he gets to take that from us? And laid a hand on my girl? I don't think so, Glenn." 

"It's not who we are," Glenn said softly. "We can't just kill everyone who breaks something we consider a rule. That's not how we work." 

Shane snorted and made no promises. 

"So, we gonna kill him?" Shane asked Rick bluntly when he came back onto the porch. 

"Who?" 

Shane glanced over his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow at Carol. "Who do you think? The dead man who got Noah killed and Ace hurt." 

Carol scoffed and waved one hand dismissively, and Shane's temper snapped. He straightened and glared at her, and saw Rick reach a hand toward him in warning. Carol seemed like she barely noticed. 

"We have a bigger problem. Ace is fine, and Glenn says he'll handle Nicolas. That will be enough. If it isn't, give it to Deanna. Let her feel like she's still in charge. We need to talk about Pete." 

Shane groaned. "What about him?" 

"He's abusing his wife and kids," Carol said flatly. 

"You got proof? Ace said the same thing, but all she has to go on is gut instinct. I agree with her, mind, and you, but unless you got proof-" Shane cut off with a shrug. "Ain't nothing we can do." 

"I sent a casserole to Deanna's family. We want her to see that." 

Shane blinked at the subject change and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. "Yeah, ok, great." 

"I also talked to Sam some more. He said his mom put a bolt on the inside of his closet. Tells him to lock himself in sometimes and not come out until morning. Said he can hear his dad yelling, things breaking, his mom crying. Last month it got quiet right in the middle of it, and he went out and found her on the floor, unconscious, bleeding." 

Ace on the ground outside the Lullaby flashed into his mind, so clear and sharp he felt his stomach churn with the same sick feeling he'd had then. His jaw tightened as he looked over at Jessie and her boys, on their porch a house up. "Goddamn it," he whispered. "Rick, I'm gonna tell you what you told me. Don't do anything you might regret, brother." 

Rick's jaw worked as he stared toward the family on the porch. 

"If walkers hadn't gotten Ed, I wouldn't be standing here right now," Carol said softly. 

"Yeah, you would," Rick disagreed. He turned and walked back inside without meeting Shane's eyes. 

Shane groaned again and looked at Carol. "You trying to get him to kill the town's doctor?" 

"Yes," she answered. "It's the only way he'll stop. Ask Ace." 

Shane looked back toward Jessie's house and saw her press her hands to her face, take a shaky breath, and rise. Her boys weren't on the porch anymore, and Shane saw the way she squared her shoulders before she opened her door. 

"Low blow, Carol." He kissed her cheek before he followed Rick inside. 

He found the kitchen blessedly empty and went straight to the sink, filling a glass and chugging it as he tried to banish the image of her on the ground. How was it that even now, after everything, that moment was still the absolutely worst of his life? 

"Rick's bein' a dumbass about the abusive bastard next door, ain't he?" 

Shane grimaced at his cup and turned around to look at Merle. "How do you know?" 

"Michonne's been bitchin'," Merle said with a shrug. "Want better'n water? Got some shitty first-round homebrew, but it'll do the trick." 

"You're brewing moonshine? Already?" Shane shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm a cop, dumbass." 

Merle shrugged. "So arrest me then." 

"Maybe tomorrow," Shane muttered, and drank more water. "He's gonna kill that man, and I can't even say I'm upset about it. Are you gonna kill Nicolas, or am I?" 

"You're talkin' pre-meditated murder, but I ain't allowed to brew no 'shine?" Merle fired at him with that asshole grin. "Interestin' priorities ya got there, pig." 

"Your sister's my only priority, and you damn well know it." 

"Yeah, one of the reasons ya ain't half bad. We'll handle Nicolas. Abusive bastard is gonna be another matter. Michonne ain't gonna like our brand a justice." Merle opened one of the cabinets and pulled a bottle from the top shelf. He thumbed off the top and took a long drag. "Fuck, it's shit. Want some?" 

"No thanks. So." Shane fidgeted, eyeing Merle sideways as he took another swig from the bottle. How the fuck did he ask this? Did he even want to ask? He really didn't. "You and Michonne. Are you-?" 

Merle looked surprised before he leered. "Bumpin' uglies? Naw, we's just friendly is all. Why? Ain't lookin' to move on from my sister, are ya?" 

Shane rolled his eyes and headed toward the stairs, not dignifying that one with a response. He really needed to learn to stop asking questions. He was gonna get some answers he didn't want one of these days.


	46. Lie #46: "I'll Put You On Your Ass First." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
**** domestic violence****  
child abuse

You woke slowly, to sunshine on your eyelids and silence. You'd been hearing voices till long into the night; the family gathered and grieving Noah. When Shane had slipped into your room and curled around you, pulling you against him like a teddy bear and pressing his lips to your shoulder, you'd groggily asked him what time it was. 

"Late. Go back to sleep, Slugger," he'd whispered. "Just gonna hold you for awhile, ok?" 

When was that ever not ok? You'd thought, but you honestly weren't sure if the words had left your mouth. You rather suspected they hadn't. 

You gave up and opened your eyes, glancing automatically toward the nightstand where Judy's monitor should have been. Since she was next door at Rick's, the monitor wasn't there, but a folded piece of paper was. 

Slugger- 

Stay in bed. Yes, I mean it. Don't scowl at me. You're not going outside the walls today, so don't even try. I'll haul you back myself. I love you. 

Dickhead. 

"'Stay in bed' my ass," you muttered, already getting up. You did force yourself to stop scowling, but you agreed with him on the whole staying-inside-the-walls thing. "I'd like to see you try to haul me back in though." 

You tucked the note in the top drawer and headed for the shower. There was still plenty to do inside the walls, and you didn't intend to laze around all day, no matter what Shane instructed. You'd shower, check in on Tara, check on your brother if he wasn't gone already, and then find your cop. He was bound to be running around somewhere. 

"Hey, Ace." 

You blinked, closing the door behind you as you stepped out onto the porch. Glenn stood on the steps, looking surprised to see you. Which didn't make much since, considering you lived here. Who was he expecting, Jackie O? 

"Hey," you echoed. 

Glenn looked better than he had the night before, but not by much. He'd showered too, but the haunted look was still in his eyes and it made you wonder if it was in yours as well. He smiled faintly. "I was coming to look for you. How's your head?" 

You grimaced. "I've got an incredible bruise and a lingering headache, but I'm fine. Any word on Tara?" 

"Maggie said she was stable this morning. Listen, I'm going to go talk to Nicolas. I told them last night I'd handle it. Come with me?" 

"Oh, please tell me you didn't tell Shane-" You cut off when Glenn looked away. "Goddamn it. He's probably dead already; you know that, right?" 

"I told them to let me take care of it. Will you help?" He held your eyes steadily and you sighed. 

"Do I get to punch him this time?" 

Glenn tried to hide the way his lips twitched, but he didn't succeed. "If he needs it." 

"Deal." 

Nicolas was cleaning blood out of the back of the van and your stomach rolled. Glenn let out a slow breath and squared his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets as the two of you walked up. 

"Nicolas. Don't talk; just listen." 

He jumped and turned, opening his mouth to say something. Between Glenn's face and yours, he made the wise decision to not. 

"Those four people you lost on that run, that's on you," Glenn said firmly. "And Noah? That's on you too. You're lucky Ace is ok, or I wouldn't be able to save your miserable hide from Shane and Merle, and Daryl when he gets back. Those five lives? You have to carry that." 

Nicolas shifted and looked away, and you scoffed. "Glenn, it's not worth it." 

"No, it is. It is." Glenn shook his head, and disgust dripped from his voice as Nicolas glared at you. "People like you are supposed to be dead, but these walls went up just in time. So you're not." 

"I could fix that," you muttered. 

Glenn didn't spare you a glance, but Nicolas stared at you angrily, his jaw tightening. Glenn's voice was iron when he continued. "You don't go outside those walls anymore. Not by yourself. Not with anyone else. And that's how you're gonna survive." 

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Nicolas stepped up into Glenn's face as the words ripped from him, and your hand was on your knife in a blink. Glenn didn't even twitch.

"I'm someone who knows who you are, and what you did. And it's not going to happen again." 

You forced yourself to let go of your knife, taking a deliberate step back. Glenn shouldn't have brought you. You were libel to just kill the asshole and be done with it. 

"I've been protecting this place. Helping provide for it. You just got here!" Nicolas snapped. 

Glenn's face didn't change. "Don't forget what I said." 

"Are- are you threatening me?" 

You laughed. "Oh, sweetie, no. Trust me, if we were threatening you, you'd know it." 

Glenn smiled slightly, and it was colder than any expression you'd ever seen on his face before. "I'm saving you. Let's go, Ace." 

You wandered back after checking on Tara, keeping an eye out for Shane. People kept stopping you to express how sorry they were about Noah, and you smiled and accepted the apologies and disengaged as soon as possible. 

You didn't want to think about Noah, being torn apart in front of you. You didn't want to think about any of the others that you'd lost since this is whole nightmare began. You wanted a cigarette and paint, and luckily you knew where to find at least one of those. Merle had some stashed in his room, and you stole the box with zero remorse and headed back out onto the porch. You wouldn't smoke inside; Judy spent too much time with you. 

Jessie's door opened and she stepped out, her eyes meeting yours before you could look away. She smiled and waved, and you reluctantly smiled back. You didn't really want to talk to anyone else right now, but she'd seen you. You stayed perched on the railing as she came over. 

"Ace. Good to see you. You should let Pete check out your head when he's done with Tara," Jessie said, her eyes concerned. 

You scoffed and blew smoke. "No, thanks. I'm fine. I've been hit harder, trust me." 

Jessie's eyes flickered, and you wondered if she was thinking the same thing. "Could I- I don't want my boys to know, but if you wouldn't mind, I'd love one of those," she said suddenly, nodding at the pack on the railing near your foot. 

You blinked at her in surprise, but nodded her to them. "Go ahead." 

"Thanks." 

Silence fell while she lit up, and your eyes drifted over Alexandria. "I want paint. How's your owl coming?" 

"Oh. It, um. It got destroyed. Knocked over," she said softly. 

You rolled your eyes as she looked deliberately away from you. You knew what that meant, and unfortunately, you couldn't leave well enough alone like you desperately wanted to. She had kids, after all. You sighed and slid off the railing. "Shane can help. Or Rick, if you prefer. They're cops." 

"I don't need help." 

You winced, hearing yourself in her tone. "Yes, you do. Pete knocked over the owl. You were getting too much enjoyment out of it, right? Maybe you pissed him off somehow. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe you didn't actually do anything; he just saw that it made you happy. So he broke it." 

She did look at you now, her eyes guarded and her face closed off. Before she could speak, tell you to go to hell or that she didn't know what you were talking about, you shoved a hand through your hair and continued. 

"My father was an abusive bastard. I grew up getting beat up. So the first time Mal hit me, it shouldn't have been a surprise, right? And it wasn't, not really. But it was a shock." You took a long drag and blew smoke out your nose, suddenly back on the floor of your apartment, bleeding onto the canvas self-portrait you'd been working on at the time. Mal's angry voice filled your ears, and you swallowed hard and reminded yourself that he was very, very dead. 

You'd shot him yourself, while he was busy trying to kill you. 

"You tell yourself you just have to be better. Don't piss him off. Keep the place clean, cook better, don't flirt, be more available, whatever it is that sets him off- you just won't let it happen, right? Only no matter how much you take care, it keeps happening. Because, and this is the one that's hard to accept- it's not really about you. It's about him," you finished. "Shane can help you. He tried to help me, and I wouldn't let him. Nearly got myself killed over it. Normally, I'd take one look at the way you're looking at me right now and say 'she's not ready.'" 

Jessie's eyes flashed to yours and away again, and she hastily hid her cigarette when her front door opened and Ron came out, waved once, and headed up the road. She waved back, smile on her lips that didn't meet her eyes. 

"Thing is, though, you have kids. You don't get to wait until you're ready," you told her bluntly. "It's your job to take care of them." 

"I can take care of my family," Jessie snapped, her eyes hard. 

You shook your head at her and sighed. "No, you can't. How many half-healed bruises are you hiding? You don't care about yourself enough to get out, fine. Care about them. When you want help? There's two cops and two overprotective redneck assholes who will come running. But just know, if I see him a lay a hand on your kids, I'll slit his throat in his sleep. Shane and his hero complex will save you despite yourself eventually. But you're a mom. You don't get to leave them in danger. Keep the pack," you snapped when she opened her mouth to speak. 

You stalked off your porch, hands shaking. You needed to find Shane. 

You unlocked your apartment and let yourself in, still smiling after lunch with your twin. You'd missed him the past couple of months, and seeing him had been great. Even when he'd tossed his arm around your shoulders and given you that look that always meant trouble, you'd been delighted. He'd started poking at Mal, about high school, about the band, about being broke and the future, and how was he gonna be able to take care of Daryl's favorite sister, hmm? Add in some bullshit about Daryl and Merle and what would happen if Mal broke your heart, and he'd checked off all the "brother meeting his sister's boyfriend for the first time" requirements, in both your opinion and apparently his. 

Darrie had kissed your cheek and given you a huge hug when you were getting ready to leave, the lingering kind neither of you usually went for. "I missed ya, sis. Don't be such a stranger, aight?" 

"I missed you too, Dar. I won't," you promised back, and walked home smiling. 

Mal had left earlier to go practice with the band, and after giving you some grief over falling for the rock star from high school Daryl had waved his beer at you and sighed. "If ya happy, I'm happy. He's aight, I guess. Not good enough for ya, but who is?" 

You'd rolled your eyes and scowled, protesting that Mal was going to be great and who had asked Darrie's opinion anyway, but the truth was it mattered. You wanted your brothers to like Mal, and Mal to like your brothers. They were family, damn it. Your only family, now that Will was dead. That mattered. 

Mal had seemed to like Darrie too, which was good. You'd been a little nervous, something about the way Mal's movements had gotten crisp and precise when Darrie started teasing him making you tense. But he'd smiled and laughed and kissed you goodbye, so he couldn't have been that mad, right? It was just Darrie being Darrie. Mal knew that. 

You changed rapidly into paint clothes, grabbing a brush and your palette and contemplating the self-portrait you'd been working on for the past week. Within minutes you were lost in the art, humming along to your usual playlist. Adele rolled to REM and rolled to Boys Like Girls and back around to Taylor Swift, and you were humming along absently to Kings of Leon "Sex on Fire" when your door slammed open and you about jumped out of your skin. 

"Shit!" you yelped, hand to your racing heart and frowning from Mal carefully closing the door to the red paint you'd just slung along the floor from your brush. "You scared me, babe. What time is it?" 

Mal didn't say anything, and you tried to ignore the churning feeling growing in your stomach as he clasped his hands behind his back and paced around the couch toward you. It was easy with the annoyance rising as well, since he'd just scared the shit out of you and now wasn't saying a damn word. 

"What are you doing?" you asked, tone sharper than you'd expected. 

He still didn't speak, standing in front of you now and turning away from you to study your piece. He reached out a hand and you hissed as he touched the tip of one finger to the wet paint. 

"Stop that! I'm working, and it's wet." You grabbed his arm, and he laughed. 

It didn't sound amused. Your lungs went tight as all the oxygen left the room, and you clenched your suddenly shaking hands into fists.

"So, you and your asshole brother think you're so much better than me, do you?" he said softly. "Ace is such a successful artist, her little paintings worth so much more than the hours and hours of work my band has put in? I've bleed for my art, Ace. Have you bled for yours?" 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You glared at him, shoving the paintbrush behind your ear and crossing your arms. "Darrie was just teasing you. Brother bullshit, you know? And I've spent hours and hours honing my art too. Don't try to belittle it." 

"Or what? What are you going to do, Ace? Call your brothers to come beat me up?" Mal laughed again. "That's what Daryl says, right? If I mess with you, if I hurt you, they'll fuck me up. Well. I'd like to see them try." 

"They won't have to," you spat. "I'll put you on your ass first. God, don't be an asshole, Mal." 

He moved so fast you didn't see it coming, and pain exploded in heat and pressure on your face. You crashed into the painting and fell heavily, crying out at the sheer surprise of it. You shook your head, pushing up to climb to your feet and put this motherfucker in his place, but Mal's hand latched into your hair and yanked your head back. He grabbed you by the throat and squeezed, eyes hard and dark and flat and suddenly you were six years old and Will was raging and all you could think to do was offer him a beer. 

"Mal," you gasped out around the hand slowly tightening. "Mal, please. Mal, you're scaring me."

He scoffed. "Guess you're not as tough as you thought, then." 

He shoved you back as he let go, and you barely caught yourself before hitting the floor with your face. You stared down at the self-portrait as Mal started to rage, pacing back and forth and yelling. Blood dripped from your nose and fell onto the canvas, mixing with the still wet paint and spreading across your face. 

Shit, you thought dully. Getting hit still hurt. Guess you shouldn't have been surprised that Mal wasn't any different than Will. Will had told you what you were good for, after all. 

Mal stormed out like he'd stormed in, with a slam of the door and an insult flung your way right before he said you were through. 

"But it's not forever. But it's just for tonight. Oh, we're still the greatest, greatest-" 

You staggered to your feet and stabbed the radio into blessed silence.

You put your bartender's smile in place and tried to shove it all to the back of your mind, but you weren't succeeding and you knew it. Where was Shane? You wondered as you walked the streets, steps rapid like you knew where you were going and needed to get there right now. It was a trick you'd learned kept people from stopping you and chatting or asking questions, and you really didn't want to be fucked with right now. You needed Shane. Or Merle. 

Shit, you missed Daryl. He needed to come back from his trip with Aaron. 

Where the fuck was Shane?

You closed your eyes as you abruptly stopped moving, just suddenly done. You'd had it. You couldn't do it. You couldn't keep up the façade. 

You could hear children laughing. Casual talk from people not too far from you. Someone was singing. Any minute now, someone was going to ask you if you were ok, and you weren't sure what you'd say.

It was so relentlessly normal here, and talking to Jessie had reminded you of what 'normal' meant, really. 

Normal was Mal's hard voice, or Will's. It was tension filling your body as you watched Mal set down whatever was in his hands with that careful control that came just before the rage. It was the way you flashed hot and then cold at the slamming of a door; the sting of Will's belt; your head aching from a forceful grip on your hair. Normal was being the goddamn victim you swore you weren't and wouldn't be again, and-

The scar on your back burned in the relentless sunlight, laughter and light voices a disorienting counterpoint to the screaming and the sound of Will's belt hitting flesh. 

"Slugger? What's wrong? Your head ok?" 

You turned toward Shane's voice without opening your eyes and reached a hand out blindly. His arms wrapped around you immediately, his low curse making you half-laugh as he pulled you in. 

"Shane." This was normal, you told yourself. Hands that ran lightly over your hair and down your back; arms that drew you close and wrapped around you protectively; Shane's voice sounding odd as it echoed in the ear you had pressed to his chest. This was normal now. Not what came before.

"Shut up. Come on, I'm taking you to the infirmary. I knew you should have stayed there, damn it." 

"No!" 

You jerked away, eyes finally opening as anger replaced the churning fear that had held you motionless. You reached a shaking hand up and shoved it through your hair, swallowing hard. 

Shane's eyes were patient, but tight around the corners with worry. "Alright. Slugger, come on. You're scaring me, sweetheart." 

"Sorry," you whispered. You leaned back against him and he let you, despite the tension you could feel radiating from him. "Sorry. I'm ok. I had a chat with Jessie. Brought some shit back. She reminds me too fucking much of myself." 

Shane turned you until you were tucked against his side and started you walking toward home. "Shit. The fuck did she say to you?" 

"It wasn't her. Well, a little bit. I told her she had to take care of her kids. She has kids, Shane. Doesn't she get it? Doesn't she know protecting them is her only priority?" You could hear the slightly hysterical edge to your voice, but you ignored it. 

Like you tried to ignore the whisper that said you had no right to tell a mother to watch out for her children. After all, you'd done such a fantastic job watching out for yours, right? You'd put your child's needs in front of yours, and kept them safe above everything else, hadn't you? Oh wait. 

"Yeah, I know. She does. She's probably doin' what she thinks is best, sweetheart, and you know Rick and I are keeping a close eye on that shit. He won't put a hand on his kids, or at least he'll only do it once. You know that," Shane said low in your ear. "That's a promise." 

It should have been enough, but it wasn't. "I don't know, Shane. What if he already is? And he's right fucking next door. I threatened to cut his throat in his sleep if I saw him lay a hand on them. Damn it, everything we're trying to do here, and I could blow it all because one- one man makes me feel like a scared, broken victim again. I'm scared, Dickhead. And he's not even my monster." 

Shane snarled, and then next thing you knew he'd scooped you up into his arms and was striding up the steps and inside your house. He kicked the door closed behind him, dropped you onto the couch while you were still trying to find words, and headed into the kitchen. You ran a shaking hand through your hair in one of his gestures that you'd picked up along the way and he was back, handing you a glass of water and crouching in front of you with his eyes so hot and pissed you worried for anyone who crossed his path. 

"Hey, hero-" 

"Shut up and drink your water." 

Your eyes narrowed but you gulped water anyway. Shane took the glass from you and set it down on the floor beside him, his eyes never leaving yours. You reached up, chewing nervously on your thumbnail until he grabbed your hand and kissed your fingers, then sighed. 

"Talk to me, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry. I'm ok," you said immediately, and it wasn't even a lie. It was true. The minute he'd scooped you up, you'd been fine. 

He was normal. This was normal. This man, your Dickhead, had been as much a part of the picture of your normal as the rest of it, and he'd been turning it into something beautiful even then. Shane had seen a victim, sure, and someone who needed his goddamn hero complex. But he'd still seen past that as well, and known who you were and who you could be. He saw the victim and the artist and the Slugger, all at once, and loved all of it. 

He rolled his eyes. "Don't pull that shit. Tell me the rest of it." 

"The rest of it?" 

"Yeah. The rest of it. Tell me what else you talked about." 

You sighed. "She doesn't want help. She's not ready. And I wouldn't push, you know, cause I know how that backfires, but she's got kids. She's got kids, Shane, and I- I wish-" 

"You've got a kid. Judy's yours as much as mine and Rick's." 

You shook your head, tugging a hand free to touch Shane's cheek. "And I love her, but no. No, she isn't. She isn't and I won't have that, hero, because I didn't take care of mine." 

"Ace, that's-" 

"That is true and I'm not beating myself up over it. I've forgiven myself for it. But it doesn't make it untrue. I just- I hate knowing its right next door," you finished. "And I wish she'd let us fight for her, if she won't fight for herself. You'd have been proud of me," you added lightly, deliberately moving away from the difficult things. "I sounded like you." 

"Oh yeah?" he asked, and you knew by the way he looked at you that he knew what you were doing and was letting you. "How's that?" 

"Told her she couldn't take care of herself," you admitted. 

Shane laughed. "Aw shit. World really has ended." 

"Fuck you, Walsh," you snapped without any real heat. 

"I mean, I'm fine with that, but I think you might want your present instead." 

Your eyes shot back to Shane and narrowed at his innocent expression. "What? What present?" 

Shane bit his lip and shrugged. "I don't know. Why don't you go check out that bag by the door and find out? See, I figured you'd get bored and wouldn't listen when I said stay in bed," he continued as you rose and headed for the backpack he'd apparently dropped on the way in. "So I asked around. Found some things." 

You opened the bag and yelped in delight. "Dickhead. You didn't." 

"I did," he said. 

You squealed and tossed your arms around him, bag still in your hand, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. "Thank you thank you thank you. I'm going outside. Now if I hadn't given Jessie the whole fucking pack of cigarettes, this would be perfect!" 

"Pack's on the railing. She didn't take them, apparently." Shane didn't let go of you when you started to turn away, pulling you back in for a longer, softer kiss instead. "Drink water. Have fun. I'm gonna wander some more, but I'll be back in a bit. Merle's cooking dinner tonight, and I've got Judy." 

"We've got Judy," you corrected him. "And Merle won't cook. He'll sweet talk Carol into it. Hell, he probably already did." 

Shane snorted as you headed down the steps together, and you stopped and turned to squint at the house. "Shit. Your brother's an asshole." 

"Yeah, he is," you agreed absently, cigarette between your lips and reaching into the bag for the first can of paint. "Be safe, Dickhead." 

"It's Alexandria, Slugger. All the trouble's outside the walls." 

You had a response to that, but you'd stepped up to the wall already and the image forming in your mind was taking over. You honestly weren't sure if you said it or not.


	47. Lie #47: "The Words Didn't Matter, After All." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
child abuse  
domestic violence

The damn painting was fighting you, and you were beginning to get annoyed with it. First time you'd had spray paint since the prison, and it didn't want to do what you wanted it to? You didn't fucking think so. 

You were scowling as you worked, nose almost on the wall you stood so close, black paint all over your hands, your arms, your shoes. "Damn it, just do what I'm fucking telling you. It's not that hard. We're almost done here, I swear." 

The paint- and the wall- reminded silent, and you figured that was probably a good thing. You also managed to finish the particularly annoying section of mane, and you figured that was an even better thing. You dropped the black paint with a huff and scooped up the white. Shane had only been able to find a few colors- red, black, white, and day-glo orange- but that had never stopped you before. You figured someone would be finding a hardware store eventually. You could wait. 

You had plans for some of those rolls of paper in Deanna's living room. You had pencils, and hey, if worse came to worst, you knew how to make charcoal from actual coals. It was messier and not something you wanted to do but oh, God, did you want to draw.

"But first, this motherfucker needs to behave," you mumbled, and dove back in to add details. 

Glass shattered, someone screamed, and you jumped. The paint in your hand was replaced with your knife as you dropped back and got your hands up, and- 

Oh, holy fuck. Holy fuck, no. 

The knife fell from nerveless fingers as you froze up completely. Rick and Pete rolled, Pete gaining the upper hand and grabbing Rick by the throat. 

Was it Rick? Or was that- you blinked and tried to focus on the here and now, but the fistfight in front of you kept shifting from Rick and Pete to Daryl and Will. Then Jessie ran in, grabbing Will- or wait, was that you? No, that was Jessie, grabbing Pete, and- 

Pete knocked her aside with a snarl. She cried out as she fell back, and you wanted to run in and do something- anything- but you were frozen. You were frozen and helpless, like all those times over the years when Will had knocked your brothers around and you couldn't do anything about it. Or when Mal had knocked you around and you couldn't do anything but take it. And now here it was, playing out again, and Will was going to kill your twin, and- 

"Easy, baby sis," Merle's voice was low and soothing and he touched your shoulder carefully. "Look, damn pig's got it handled, aight? You just take a deep breath for ol' Merle and stay where ya are. Ok, darlin'?" 

The world snapped back into focus as abruptly as it had distorted, with your big brother turning you to look into his concerned blue eyes, a paler version of yours and Daryl's, instead of at the fight raging. 

"Damn it, Rick! I said stop!" Deanna yelled. 

"Oh, shit," you mumbled. You fumbled for Merle's hand as you spun back to fight to see where you ranked it on the disaster scale of one to ten. 

Rick had Pete in a choke hold, Jessie had a hand against her face, Rick and Pete were both covered in blood and being stared at by the gathered crowed, and Jessie's son Sam was hiding behind Carol. Something like an eight, you decided. Or maybe not. Make that an eleven, you thought in despair as Rick pulled one of the guns Carol had stolen from his belt and had it pointed at Tobin and that idiot Nicolas' heads. 

"Or what?" he asked. "You gonna kick me out?" 

"Rick, what the hell?" you snapped, starting forward. Merle promptly yanked you back. 

"Don't think so, baby sis," he said firmly. "Rick ain't exactly got his head on straight." 

Well, that proved to be an understatement, you thought as Rick started off again. It wasn't that he was saying things you disagreed with, or even that you hadn't already said. It was that he was yelling them, waving a gun with blood all over him and an unconscious man at his feet. It didn't exactly paint a good picture.

"You still don't get it. None of you do! We know what needs to be done and we do it. We're the ones who live. You? You just sit and plan and hesitate. You pretend like you know when you don't!" 

Silenced shots came from the tower, and you pressed your fingers to your eyes and hoped Sasha had that under control. You exchanged a glance with Carol, and she shook her head slightly. 

"You wish that things weren't what they are. Well, you wanna live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is gone. Things don't get better because you- you want them to. Starting right now, we have to live in the real world. We have to control who lives here." 

"That's never been more clear to me than it is right now," Deanna said put in coldly and you groaned. 

There it was. There went the attempt to infiltrate from the inside. And for once, it wasn't a Dixon who made trouble. 

"Me? Me? You-- You mean me? Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed. It's already gotten people killed. And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. If you don't fight, you die. I'm not gonna stand by--" 

You blinked. Michonne and Shane had come out of nowhere while everyone- including you- had been distracted by the crazy man in the middle of the circle. One mean punch from Michonne had knocked Rick clean out, and she muttered "shut up" as he fell. 

"Yeah, and it ain't a democracy anymore, right, brother?" Shane added, arms crossed and looking annoyed as hell. His eyes landed on you and he looked even more angry, but you waved him off. 

You were fine. Now, anyway, a little voice whispered treacherously. There were more important things to worry about than your delightful little flashback moment there. Like the next shot that echoed from the tower. 

"Michonne, grab the idiot. Merle, check out the walls and make sure whatever's going on out there is being handled. Jessie, can I speak with you?" Shane dove right into full cop mode, and you watched the crowd respond to it in a way you never would have expected. Sure, Shane was good at what he did and always had been- you'd never ceased to be amazed at what he was like in uniform- but Deanna's people were sheltered. This was probably the worst thing they'd seen happen, even with the end of the world. And shocked people were difficult to handle, especially collectively.

You looked at Deanna's face and winced. That wasn't good. Your people had your work cut out for you now. There was a real chance this was going to get bloody. Light flashed off the shattered glass from Jessie's front window, and you stared at the red drops clinging to some of the shards. 

Bloodier, that was.

Your feet were bare and pressed against the glass of your window, and you could practically feel the high-summer heat radiating from outside. Sunshine filled the room and you lay flat on your back with your homework propped on your knees, wishing you were done and sitting on the fire escape sketching the city. You had this idea you wanted to try, for showing the motion of the cars and the people, like a long-exposure photograph, but in charcoal. 

It probably wouldn't work, but you'd rather be working on it than math homework, that's for sure. 

Something crashed in the kitchen and you froze, your breath catching in suddenly tight lungs. 

Please don't have been Darrie dropping something, please don't have been Darrie dropping something, you thought. Please don't let Will be home.

The door opened as a thick accent rose in furious tones. "Goddamn it, boy, what I tell ya 'bout-"

Daryl slipped in your room, face white and pale, and closed the door firmly behind him. "Nothin' we can do. Merle dropped the Wild Turkey." 

"Oh, shit," you breathed, sitting up and staring at the door. Will's voice was still going, and you tried to block out the individual words. The words didn't matter, after all. The tone did- and Will was pissed. "Get the kit?" 

"Fuck, we might need the damn keys," Darrie muttered, wincing when Merle let out a short, harsh cry. "He's gonna do some damage. We might not be able to fix it all."

Tears filled your eyes, knowing what it took to make your brother make a sound like that these days. "Dar, he's-" 

"Yeah, I know. We twelve, sis. Ain't shit we can do but stay outta the way and not make it worse." 

Will laughed, his tone shifting to mocking and slow, smug and satisfied. So it was over then, or almost, you thought. Merle would make his way in here, and you and Darrie would patch him up. You closed your eyes and waited for the staggering steps and the turn of the doorknob. 

It was always the same. There was nothing you could do. 

Rick stayed unconscious the whole night. You'd patched his face up and his hand up, partly because you didn't trust anyone who wasn't one of yours to do it and partly because it gave you an excuse to not have to watch Shane handle a domestic violence situation. You were appalled at the way you'd been reacting to things lately, and no amount of him reassuring you that night that you'd just gone through a traumatic event with Noah's death and that was all it was had done much to help you feel less like a weak bitch. 

Now it was time to figure shit out, you knew. Shane was back out there on the streets in uniform, but Glenn and Maggie had bad news and Carol had told you early that morning that people were talking. Deanna wanted at least Rick and maybe all of you gone. 

That wasn't going to happen, but your fearless leader needed to get his ass up and explain just what the fuck was going on. 

You, Carol, Glenn, and Abraham headed over to the basement they'd hauled Rick into, all of you grimly silent. You and Carol were going to have to have a conversation about the other guns, preferably with Rick, but not with the others there. 

Michonne was still in the chair where you'd left her the evening before, looking just as pissed. Maybe more. 

Considering Rick was now up and leaning against the wall, you were betting on even more pissed. He had that goddamn stubborn bastard face on. Shane would have had his hands planted on his hips as soon as he saw it. 

"Where'd you get the gun?" Michonne asked as you filed in. 

You immediately went to sit on the bed beside Rick and start checking his face. The glass he'd taken a header through had done some damage, but it had all been superficial. And of course, punching someone repeatedly had fucked up his knuckles, and you'd dug a fairly impressive chunk of glass from them as well. Rick held still while you poked and Carol answered for him. 

"You took it, right? From the armory? That was stupid. Why did you do it?" 

You shot Carol a look and caught Rick's vaguely annoyed one as well. Carol was playing everyone, it seemed- even your own people. There was not telling them everything, and then there was playing them. You weren't a fan. You added it to the list of things that needed dealing with.

"Just in case," Rick muttered, and he was about as good of a liar as you'd thought he would be. 

Shit, you people needed to have a meeting. Get your stories straight. Also, you missed your brother. 

"Deanna's planning on having a meting tonight. For anyone who wants to," Glenn put in. 

"To kick Rick out?" Abraham had joined you, Glenn, and Carol at the last minute, and he leaned in the door looking goddamn annoyed by the whole situation. You didn't blame him. You were also annoyed. 

"To try," you muttered as you rewrapped Rick's hand. 

"We don't know that. Maggie's with Deanna right now-" 

"Come on, Glenn, we do know," you snapped. "She threatened it for Rick once already, and shit, I'd kick him out if I were her. We need a plan." 

"At the meeting, you say you were worried about someone being abused and no one was doing anything about it." Carol's voice was firm and flat, and you wondered if she'd been having as much trouble with things these days as you were. She had the history as well, and with the way Jessie's kid had taken to her, you rather suspected she might be. "You say you took a gun just to be sure that Jessie was safe from a man who wound up attacking you. You say you'll do whatever you want them to. Just tell them a story that they want to hear. It's what I've been doing since I got here." 

"Why?" Michonne asked sharply. 

"Because these people are children and children like stories," Carol answered. 

You snorted. "Damn, Carol. I mean, I don't disagree, but damn. Look, you can spin it how you want. Jessie already knows about Will and Mal, so I'll conjure some tears if I need to. Won't be hard, since Pete actually does scare the shit out of me." 

"You tell Shane that?" Rick asked. You shrugged, and Rick scoffed. "Surprised Shane didn't kill him." 

"You beat him to the attempt, Deputy Grimes," you said dryly. "Point is, that's great and all, but what about when the shit hits and Deanna says go anyway? They're guarding the armory now." 

"We still have knives. That's all we'll need against them." 

You shot Carol a raised eyebrow and she met your look blandly. 

"Tonight, at the meeting, if it looks like it's going bad, I whistle," Rick said slowly. "Carol grabs Deanna, I take Spencer, Michonne grabs Reg. Glenn, Abraham, Ace- and I assume you'll tell Shane and Merle- cover us, watch the crowd." 

"We can talk to them," Michonne said, sounding more fucking pissed than you'd heard her maybe ever. 

"Yeah, we will. If we can't get through, we take the three of them and say we'll slit their throats." 

Considering you'd threatened to do that to Pete in his sleep, you didn't have a whole lot of objections, except that as plans of attack went, it was lacking in detail. And depth. You and Carol would work on something better later. Maybe get Shane involved too. 

"Like at Terminus?" Glenn asked, sounding pointed. 

"No, we just tell 'em. They give us the armory and it's over." 

Glenn looked suspicious. Rick sounded bored, like this whole thing was a waste of time, and you almost agreed with him. You and yours were going to have to take over. It was just a matter of how, and for that plan to be made you needed to meet with the people who'd been planning for it all along. 

Damn it, you wished your brother was here. 

"Did you want this?" Glenn asked. 

"No," Rick snapped. "I hit my limit. I- I screwed up. And here we are," he added bitterly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna sleep some more." 

You had some questions for the man, but you figured now wasn't exactly the time. And you needed to talk to Carol and Shane anyway, so you followed the rest of them- including Michonne- out of the basement. 

"Carol." you grabbed her sleeve and held her back as the others disbanded. "We need to talk," you said, bartender's smile lighting up when one of the casserole moms wandered by and eyed you two suspiciously. She smiled back automatically, and you counted that a victory. 

"Not here. Not now. They're watching. We'll meet back up later," Carol disagreed. "Get Shane home. I'll bring the baby over. We'll make a real plan." 

"Carol, you have got to stop conning your own people," you said bluntly. "It's scary. I don't like it." 

Carol flashed you an empty smile. "But it's working. I'm going to get supplies. For a casserole. For Pete. With our sympathies." 

"I swear to god if you get caught stealing guns and make this worse-" you hissed, but she was already walking away with a wave and that meek look that made you want to rip your hair out. "Shit." 

You took the long way home, trying to gauge the turn of the tide, as it were. People looked wary, but you were Ace. Carol's friend who came and made casseroles and was easy to talk to. They talked. 

Mostly people were just confused. You had the unexpected benefit of things being so pre-end-of-the-world normal around here that most of them assumed something had happened. And everyone had suspected- or at least claimed now that they suspected- what had been going on with Jessie and Pete, so generally there was just rumblings of discontent about how far Rick had taken it and all the crazy talk that had come after. 

Shane, according to everyone, was a rock. You believed them, because he'd always been your rock, but it was still a bit of role reversal from the early days, where it seemed everything Shane did was just this side of crazy to Rick. The apocalypse was weird. 

There was also commentary on the painting you'd be working on, the first most of them had seen of your work. You rounded the corner and looked at it now, and satisfaction had you pausing to take a look. You'd finish it later today, you decided, even though it could have passed as done. You always were fussy about details, though. 

Everything was done in black and white, of course, and half of the roaring lion's face was geometric. The other half was as realistic as you could get it without anything to reference, mouth open and teeth bared. Careful, everyone, it whispered. This is no housecat. 

You spotted three or four places that needed work, then shook yourself free before the damn lion could get you wrestling with it again. You had shit that needed doing right now, and painting wasn't on the agenda. Though it should be. You jogged up the stairs, let yourself in the door, and went straight for the kitchen. 

Where you screamed and slapped a hand over your eyes. "What the fuck. What the fuck!" 

"Well, hey there, lil sister," Merle drawled lazily, like you'd just come home from school and he was about to ask if you had any homework. 

Not sounding at all like you'd just walked in on him and Michonne with their tongues down each other's throats and his hand up under her half-unbuttoned uniform shirt. 

Holy fuck, you'd joked about it, but you didn't think they actually were shacking up. Michonne had that twisted bullshit going with Rick, and- 

"Um. Sorry. I just. Need a shower," you stammered out, edging into the room and carefully avoiding looking at either of them directly. "Then I'm going back out to find Shane, and- Sorry." 

"Relax, Ace. Merle got a little carried away, is all," Michonne said easily. "I'm heading back over to check on Carl and Judith." 

"Yeah, I was gonna stop in. But if you're going, I might just skip it," you muttered, one foot on the stairs. You were trying damn hard not to see Michonne buttoning her shirt or the way she shot your brother a grin as he leaned against the counter. You definitely didn't want to see his self-satisfied smirk. 

Michonne shrugged and grabbed her jacket. "You know they love you. Come over, kiss the baby. Don't be weird, Ace. We've got enough problems." 

You stared at her. "Don't be weird? You're- you're fucking my brother! God, why?" 

"Thanks, sis," Merle drawled, but he sounded more amused than offended. You flipped him off as Michonne grinned. 

"Cause it's fun." 

"Damn straight." 

Michonne shot Merle a look and rolled her eyes. "Shut up. Look, I almost hate to admit it, but your useless lump of a brother is good for something. For a man with one hand, he manages to get the job done like he's got three." 

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ," you groaned, closing your eyes and trying not to gag. Merle's raucous laugh filled the kitchen, and you groaned again. "Fucking hell. I did not need that mental image, thanks." 

"You asked. See you later, lump," Michonne called as she slipped out the door. 

Before your brother could speak, you held up a hand and waited until you saw Michonne stroll past the window. Then you shot him a look and crossed your arms. "Do we need to talk about that?"

"Shit, sis, why would we? I mean, I can give ya details if ya want, but-" 

You let out a short scream that had him shutting up and whistling in appreciation. 

"Been a minute since ya pulled that 'um out," he said. "Still got damn good lungs, though." 

"Shut up for two seconds and be real," you snapped. "She's hung up on Rick. You get that, right?" 

"Ya tryin' to do my job there, baby sis? Lookin' out for ya big brother? I know she is. We're fuckbuddies, that's all," Merle said. 

You heard the softness in his voice when he asked if you were looking out for him, but that declaration had you frowning in concern. "Merle, are you sure-" 

"'Course I'm sure. Don't ya worry your pretty lil head about it none. We know where we stand, which is why we ain't spreadin' the info to the rest of the damn family. Now, ya wanna hear more about when we's first hooked up, or-" 

You cut him off again with another screech, knowing full well he would give you way more detail than you ever wanted just to get you to stop trying to talk to him. He'd done that when you'd been questioning him about his first girlfriend, when you'd asked him to give you some advice on boys, when you'd caught him making out with the girl from two floors up in the stairwell. You didn't need that kind of information now. "Don't. Just- I'm gonna go shower. Maybe find some bleach for my eyes." 

"Awww, like we ain't all seen things with you'n the pig we didn't want to be seein' none of!" he yelled after you as you fled up the stairs. 

"Fuck you, Merle!"


	48. Lie #48: "If Either Of Us Was Going To Go Off The Fucking Rails And Kill The Abuser Next Door, It Should Have Been Me." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
domestic violence  
child abuse

Shane rubbed a hand over his face wearily as he headed inside. He needed a nap something awful, but he had a feeling that wasn't happening any time soon. Especially with the gleam Merle Dixon's eyes as he came into the kitchen. 

"The fuck you have to be so satisfied about?" Shane muttered. He grabbed a glass and started chugging water. "We're in deep shit, if you haven't noticed." 

Merle shrugged and kept sharpening the machete he held steady between his knees. There were about ten other blades on the counter, including Ace's usual three lined precisely up to one side of Merle's cleaning and sharpening kit. Shane frowned at them and then at the door, cause if his Slugger was wandering around unarmed again he was going to go chase her down and lecture her for awhile. They sure as shit couldn't afford to get complacent, not with Deanna ready to banish Rick. And wasn't Ace the one who'd been all set to take the damn place? Now she wasn't even carrying her knife? It was the fucking Atlanta camp all over again. 

"She's upstairs in the shower, pig. Think I'd let my lil sis go wanderin' around without a weapon? I done cleaned and sharpened them blades for 'er. Go on up, just keep it down," Merle added with a lurid wink. 

Shane scowled, so not in the mood for Merle's comments on his sex life, even if he was well used to that nonsense by now. How the fuck had he ended up living with all three Dixons? He hated this asshat when he met him. He might still hate him; Shane honestly wasn't sure. He started to snap at Merle to be serious, damn it, there was real shit going on, but Ace's voice came from the stairs right before she appeared. 

"Merle, I swear to god, you'd better be decent down here. Where the fuck are my knives? Oh, hey Dickhead. I was going to come find you." Her hair was dripping down her back, and she'd ripped the sides and sleeves out of a tee shirt again. 

Shane thought about her dancing backward out of his reach, his phone in her hands and her laughter ringing out and filling the street, and the way he'd grabbed the open side of her paint-splattered tank and pulled her back toward him. She'd told him that wasn't fair as he wrapped one arm around her to keep her from squirming free while he pried his phone from her grip. 

He hooked his fingers into the open side of her shirt and pulled her to him now, just to hear her laugh. Merle muttered something under his breath as Shane kissed her long and hard, and she melted into it. Shit, he'd been worried about her since she got back from that run. It'd been one thing after another, and this mess with Jessie and Pete- well, he was seeing a side of her he hadn't seen in a long time, and he fucking hated it. He hadn't thought about killing Malcolm fucking Hall in a long damn time, but it was on his mind again now. 

"What was that for?" she asked with a grin when he finally- reluctantly- let her go. 

He shook his head and kissed hers. "You're pretty. Why were you coming to find me?" 

Ace sighed and grimaced, grabbing at her knives. "Oh, you cleaned them. Thanks, but next time ask before you take shit from our room, damn it," she shot at Merle, who snorted loudly and dropped the machete down with a clang. "Carol should be here soon. We need to go talk to Rick about some things." 

Shane figured he knew those 'things' meant the other two stolen guns, the guards on the armory, and what the fuck the official plan was for dealing with tonight. 

Merle snorted. "Ya tryin' to hide shit, ya picked the wrong person to hide it from, baby sis. I know ya'll been up to somethin' since we got here. You just let ol' Merle know what to watch for, once ya pigs figure it out." 

"Am I a pig now too?" Ace mumbled, sounding actually offended. 

Shane was spared Merle's answer by Carol knocking on the door. He wasn't sure how he felt about current developments, including Carol's weirdness and Merle knowing they had secrets. He wasn't the biggest fan of having all these secrets, either, since that shit had damn near destroyed his life and those of everyone he cared about back when the world ended and Rick pulled a resurrection act. When the fuck had Shane Walsh become the level-headed one? He wondered as he followed Carol and Ace, both with those fake ass smiles painted on while they talked about the key points to taking over the place. 

He missed the days when he was the hothead and Rick reeled him in. He wasn't any good at this role reversal. 

Rick was asleep when they came in, and Shane hesitated to wake him up. Carol and Ace didn't seem to share his reservations, with Carol plopping down on the bed and shaking Rick's shoulder. Shane pointed Ace toward the chair, but she rolled her eyes and leaned into his side instead. He couldn't say he had much of a problem with that, honestly. Somehow having his Slugger under his arm just made everything better.

Rick woke up with a jerk, looking like he had the mother of all headaches. Considering Michonne had dropped him with one shot to the skull and Shane wasn't even sure how much damage Rick had taken before then, he could believe it. At least his face looked better, cleaned up and bandaged. Ace's work, Shane knew. 

"It's good what happened last night," Carol declared as Rick sat up and rubbed his eyes. "We have more cover now. All of them think you've been found out, that it's over." She held out a gun to Rick and Shane groaned. 

"How many of those are floating around again? Just so I know what to watch for while I'm doin' my job and policing these people?" he snapped. 

Carol shot him a look. "Two. I have one, Rick has that one. Ace didn't want one and Daryl didn't take his." 

"Why didn't you tell the others we had more?" Ace asked. "Also, Rick, you're the worst fucking liar I've ever seen. It's a damn good thing you can persuade nearly anyone with that stubborn bastard expression. You're going to need it." 

"Michonne stopped Rick," Carol said slowly. "She knocked him out." 

Shane snorted and pointed at Rick, wanting to make sure they had one thing clear. "If she hadn't, I was gonna." 

"I deserved it," Rick agreed, holding Shane's gaze. Shane nodded once, Rick nodded back, and he knew they were fine. 

"It was stupid." 

"No, it wasn't. Carol, they're with us. You have to stop conning your own people." Ace sounded pissed. "Sure, keeping things to the four- well, five with Darrie- of us made sense when we were trying to assimilate instead of overthrow. But things are happening now, and my other idiot brother is going to be involved in Rick's less-than-well-laid-out plot. One of our own could do something stupid if they don't know everything." 

"I didn't tell them just in case," Carol said firmly. "And it's still a good idea to keep it as quiet as possible." 

Rick sighed as Ace leaned forward, clearly ready to argue the point with Carol. "We're not trying to overthrow anyone, we're just preparing for it. And... I don't wanna lie anymore," he said slowly. "Like Ace said, I'm not very good at it." 

"Never were," Shane muttered, and Rick shot him a dry look. Shane grinned and Rick just shook his head. 

"You said you don't want to take this place. Now you don't want to lie? Oh, sunshine," Carol said with sarcasm so strong Shane could have cut a slice off of it and served it with whipped cream and a cherry. "You don't get both." 

"Goddamn it, Carol." Ace's tone was thoroughly disgusted as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's not that I disagree with you, it's that lying to our people all the time is a good way to not have people anymore. If we don't trust them, who do we trust?" 

"Now you're getting it," Carol said as she rose. "No one." 

Shane and Rick exchanged worried looks again as Ace sighed. 

"Carol, that's no way to live. You have to trust someone." 

"I trust the people in this room. I trust Daryl. Now, you and I need to go talk to as many people as we possible can before tonight's meeting. We have to lay the groundwork." 

"So what exactly was it you told me, again?" Shane asked Rick dryly when Ace and Carol had gone. 

Rick had his head leaned back against the wall and his eyes closed, and he didn't bother to open them. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"It was something along the lines of 'you've got to put is aside, brother, before it gets you killed'," Shane said, knowing damn well Rick knew what he was talking about. "So. When did you stop following your own advice?" 

"When I started following Reverend Shane's," Rick shot back. 

Shane laughed at that one. He shoved off the wall and held a hand out. Without opening his eyes, Rick grabbed it and let Shane haul him to his feet. "What the fuck did Reverend Shane know? Come on, man. Talk to me. The hell is it with this one? If either of us was going to go off the fucking rails and kill the abuser next door, it should have been me." 

"I'd point out that I didn't kill him, but I don't think you'd listen," Rick said dryly. 

Shane snorted. "No, I would not. Point remains." 

"Surprised you haven't tried, what with Ace saying he scares her. Shit." Rick hissed the last word as they left the basement holding cell and the sunlight hit his eyes. 

Shane snorted. "Low blow, brother. Shut up a minute. Tobin, fellas." 

Deanna had put three men on the armory, and they stood grouped together with rifles over their shoulders. It was shitty tactics, but Shane wasn't about to say something right then. 

"Shane. Rick," Tobin greeted them both. "Shane, can we talk to you a minute?" 

He hesitated, glancing between them and Rick. Rick waved him off. "I'm fine, 22." 

"Shut up and go home, Grimes," he shot back. "I'll catch up with you in a minute. What can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked as Rick walked off. 

Tobin looked embarrassed. "Listen, I don't know how to ask this, but… We were wondering. Did Pete really hit Jessie and the boys?" 

Shane stared at him and blood started pounding in his ears. These people- fuck. He was starting to think Rick was fucking right. They'd only survived because they were damn fucking lucky. 

"My Slugger- Ace. She picked him out the first time she saw him," he said slowly. "Now, she's in, ah, a bit of a unique position, you could say. Cause she's lived through being one of those kids and she's lived through being beaten up on by a piece of filth who's no longer breathing clean air. But still. She took one look at the way they interacted and she knew. You trying to tell me you've all been living with them since the beginning, and you didn't? I'm not buying that, man. What you're really asking me is, 'can we justify being scared of Rick', and the answer there is sure. Sure, that's what you can do if you want. But Rick ain't the one to be scared of, not really." 

He turned and walked up the street in the direction Rick had gone. 

He caught up to Rick outside the Dixon-Walsh house, mostly because Rick was standing in the road looking at something with a faint smile on his lips. Shane fell into place beside him, arms crossed as he studied the painting that had captured Rick's attention. 

Ace had, as usual, done the incredible. Shane knew she'd been annoyed with it- said the damn thing was fighting her, whatever that meant- but he couldn't see any of the thousands of flaws she'd have been able to find. The lion was perfect, in his opinion. And the transition from intense realism into the geometric shit, it mirrored the way the world had been stripped into the bare essentials and fundamentals of survival. 

Or something like that, he thought with a mental roll of his eyes at himself. Art appreciation was Ace's thing.

"She's so good at that shit, brother. It's a damn shame the world ended." 

Shane snorted. "Naw. I'm kinda alright with it, all in all. We might never have gotten our heads on straight if it hadn't." 

"You would have. You'd have seen the news eventually, known she'd been in the hospital, and you'd have been running blue lights and pushing the needle to get to Atlanta," Rick disagreed. 

Shane swallowed hard, Slugger's face when she'd stepped out of that truck flashing into his mind. "I'd have killed that bastard and gone to jail." 

"We'd have covered it up." 

"Jesus, Rick," Shane muttered, a laugh slipping out before he could stop it. "We were officers of the law." 

"Yeah. We were. Sometimes laws, though, they don't know the whole story." 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair and looked away from Ace's work to Rick's clenched jaw. Rick wasn't looking at the lion anymore either, and Shane felt a sudden wash of sympathy for how Rick must have felt during that six months after Ace had told him they weren't friends anymore. Had he been this hell bent on doing something stupid and destroying his life? "Damn it, man. We have got to talk about your crush on that woman." 

"I don't have a crush on her," Rick muttered, suddenly looking and sounding like they were in high school again. "She was in danger. I was trying to help her." 

"And you know fucking well how that goes." Shane planted his hands on his hips and glared at Rick. "But don't give me that bullshit about not having a crush. I was there when you fell for Lori; I was there when you spent two weeks in college losing your mind over Amy McNeil. I know what I'm talking about, brother." 

"That's the third time you've mentioned Amy, and I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I wanted to help Jessie and Ron and Sam. A woman and her children." Rick had that stubborn bastard look in his eyes, staring intensely into Shane's. "You understand. I know you do. You were ready to cut his fuel line. Hell, didn't you stake out her apartment building one day?" 

"I did not," Shane objected. He glanced away and sighed. "It was more than once. That's not the point, brother. Slugger wasn't married, and I wasn't trying to get with her. Atlanta wasn't Alexandria, and I sure as shit didn't get into a fight with that cockroach and almost kill him, then go waving a gun at people." 

Rick scoffed and it was his turn to look away. "No, Atlanta wasn't Alexandria. And I'll- I'll own up to the gun thing. I lost my head, and Michonne was right to take me down. But you would have killed Hall, had it been here. You tried to, at the prison." 

"And regret every day that I didn't," Shane agreed without hesitation. "But that wasn't the same situation either, man. Look, what's done is done. But you gotta change your stance before this meeting. Slugger will lay all her shit on the ground for you, brother, in front of all those people. You and I both know it, and we both know what that'll cost her. We're all out here working our asses off to keep this as civilized and painless as possible. So you gotta do your part. Be the Rick who pulls off miracles. This ain't a democracy, brother, but it ain't the Republic of Rick either." 

Rick did that thing where he started to nod, looked away, and gestured vaguely, and Shane knew he'd gotten through. "You're right," Rick said. "You're right. 'Republic of Rick'?" 

Shane shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?" 

"Yeah, sure, Reverend Shane. You coming inside?" 

Shane shoved his hand through his hair again and thought about Tobin. "No, I gotta get back out there. Wander around some more, keep the peace, try to assure people that you're not insane. Damn it, man, why am I the reasonable one? I don't like it." 

"You? Reasonable?" 

"Fuck you, brother," Shane said pleasantly. 

Rick clapped him on the shoulder and turned to go inside, and Shane started to leave when Rick got in the last shot. 

"You're so reasonable, what was all that bullshit back in fourth grade?" 

"We were ten, asshole!" 

"I don’t know, man, I just- I'm over it." Shane tossed the football toward the ceiling and caught it. He looked over at Rick, sitting at his desk with books, binders, and his laptop open and strung around. Rick had a pencil clenched in his teeth as he typed rapidly, fingers flying over the keys as he stared at the page of a book. 

"Are you even listening to me?" Shane complained. He'd been sprawled over Rick's bed bitching steadily for the past half hour, with Rick grunting, mumbling "uh-huh", or making sympathetic noises, and now Shane was wondering if his best friend had even heard a damn word he'd just said. "Hey!" 

Shane lobbed the football in his direction, and Rick batted it aside without looking away from the screen he was now squinting at with a confused expression. The football crashed against the bookshelf and Rick didn't even blink. Shane sat up with a sigh and shoved his hand through his hair. He needed a haircut; that shit was getting long. 

"What the hell are you even doing?" he asked Rick, wandering over to peer over his shoulder. 

Rick blinked at him. "What am I doing? I'm studying, jackass. You know. Classes? Exams? We're in college. And why the fuck aren't you cramming too?" 

Shane shrugged. "If I didn't learn it all semester I'm hardly gonna learn it now, am I? Besides, I've got actual problems." 

"Yeah, like potentially flunking your exams. Damn it, Shane, this shit's important."

Shane rolled his eyes. "I'm taking basic education courses, man. It's all shit we learned in high school. I'll be fine. Come on, take a break, nerd. I need your advice." 

"Don't sleep with more than one woman at a time," Rick muttered, already flipping pages rapidly. "I mean, honestly Shane, what did you think was going to happen?"

"I told them up front we weren't exclusive and I was seeing other people," Shane objected. "I'm not an asshole, damn it. I don't go running around behind anyone's back." 

Rick's fingers flew over the keys again, then he sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with a sigh. "I never said you did. But the thing is, women, they don't like casual. No one does, really, after months of it. You've been jumping between those two the whole semester, brother. I'm not surprised they're both ready for nothing or more." 

Shane frowned. "Well, I'm not. I don't want a girlfriend." 

"You should try it some time first." 

"I have. It wasn't fun," Shane shot back as he grabbed the football from Rick's floor.

Rick was squinting at his phone now and Shane barely resisted the urge to bounce the football off his head. "Two dates with Becky Cavanaugh doesn't count." 

Shane gave into the temptation. "It was two months, jackass, and more than two dates. Girlfriends aren't fun. Girlfriends are serious, like you and Lor. I'm not ready for serious." 

"That hurt," Rick informed him, rubbing his head as Shane retrieved his football again. "So? Serious is a good thing. You might like serious now." 

"No. I should be able to tell a girl up front that's not what I want, and that I'm not looking to date, and she should be able to accept that. Or just tell me no," Shane complained. "It ain't that hard." 

"Yeah, I agree with you. On the other, you can't spend hours and hours with that same girl, take her out on actual dates, for months and not expect her to think it's growing into something serious." Rick shrugged when Shane groaned. "Just the way it is, brother." 

"Well, that's shit." 

"You know, man, you should join the debate team; your arguments are irrefutable. Now help me study or get the fuck out." 

The sun was going down, and Shane nodded to people as they drifted toward Deanna's for the meeting. He would head over soon, after he finished this walk around the wall and checked in on Carl and Judy. He'd make sure Rick's dumbass was on his way, then go lean in the corner and try to add an official presence with Michonne. They'd both be in uniform, and Shane was already not looking forward to wearing the tie. But Ace had insisted on the full thing, and Shane knew from experience that she was right. People responded to uniforms. 

He saw the open gate and his heart stopped. "Son of a bitch." 

There was no sign of anyone outside, who might have left it open because they were coming right back in. And there was no one on gate duty like there fucking should have been, and Shane's pulse was pounding and his hands were starting to shake. 

These idiots. These absolute idiots. They couldn't keep their fucking gate closed and guarded, they ignored a bastard abuser in their midst, and they wanted to kick Rick out? Fucking hell. Ace was right. They were going to have to take this place. 

Shane wished he had a fucking gun. 

He stepped back through the gate as Rick came running up to him, panic in his eyes. Shane glared at Rick then nodded at the latch, where dark blood and a chunk of flesh stained the iron. "Got us a problem, brother."

Rick slammed a fist into the gate and pulled it closed, making sure it was latched securely while Shane started scanning the ground. "Yeah," Rick agreed. "We do." 

"Just like old times," Shane mumbled as he and Rick fell into step, Shane pulling his knife as they started following the faint blood trail. "You and me on patrol." 

"Shit. Gonna be late to the meeting." 

Shane shrugged. "We aren't leaving. Meeting doesn't matter. Come on, we gotta find this fucker before someone gets eaten."


	49. Lie #49: "Nothing Major" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon-typical violence  
mentions of domestic violence/abuse  
character death

"Do not tell Lori," Rick said. 

Shane grinned and ran a hand over his hair, breathless and disbelieving. Rick had taken one to the vest and scared the living hell out of him, and Shane knew he was right. Lori didn't need to- 

The third man sprang up, his gun fired, and Rick was on the ground. 

Shane's feet were rooted in place; sound was distorted in his ears; he was trying to pull his shotgun up and take out the bastard who had just shot his best friend, but it was like the thing weighed a thousand pounds. He was moving through quicksand, or maybe fighting a riptide ocean current, and Rick was going to bleed out if Shane didn't- If Shane didn't- 

"Shane. Shane." 

He jerked awake at the touch on his shoulder, springing to his feet and his hand going to the gun that should have been at his side before his eyes opened fully. It wasn't there, and he stood panting and wild-eyed, looking for the third man. 

He had to take out the third man, so he could help Rick. 

"Shane. You were dreaming." Lori's voice was low and worried as she stepped closer to him.

Abruptly he realized he was in the waiting room at King County Hospital. The third man was dead, and Rick- 

"Rick?" he asked, gripping Lori's hand. 

She shook her head. "Still in surgery. You weren't asleep long. You ok?"

"How are you asking me that?" he asked her, tugging on her hand to get her to sit back down. Carl was curled on two chairs, covered in Shane's jacket and using Lori's as a pillow, sound asleep. Kid looked wrecked, but he'd insisted on staying until Rick was out. 

Shane hadn't meant to fall asleep. He was here for Lor. For Lori and Carl and Rick, and he scrubbed a hand across his face and let out a harsh laugh. "Don't ask me if I'm ok. That's my job. Do you need anything?" 

"I need you to stop acting like you're doing penance for something. It wasn't your fault. I need you, Shane. Ok? I need your help to be strong for him," she said, her hand resting on Carl's back. "So you have to be able to look me in the eye. Ok?" 

Shane swallowed hard and met her eyes. "I should have seen the third man." 

"You couldn't have. It was an accident. You hear me? An accident. They happen. We all know the risks of the job." 

Shane stared into Lori's eyes, and he didn't know how in the hell she could be so calm. That was his brother in there, her husband, Carl's dad. And Shane had failed to keep him safe. 

Shane shook his head and muttered under his breath. "Fuckin' leave the gate unguarded and open. Two fucking dead bastards waltz right in and these idiots are holding hands around a campfire singing Kumbaya or some shit. God damn it." 

Rick glanced at him and Shane scowled harder and shifted the walker on his shoulder. "Don't look at me like that. This is all your fault." 

"I didn't leave the gate open," Rick said, entirely too reasonably for a man whose face was covered in exploded brains. 

Shane's heart had fucking stopped when he'd finished taking care of his dead bastard and turned around to find Rick on the ground, walker inches from his face, and then before Shane could react Rick had driven his stolen gun so far up into the thing's head that its half-rotten brain had popped like a tomato, goop coming out of its mouth and eyes and what was left of its nose. Shane had been close enough to catch some of the splatter, but Rick, as usual, had gotten the worst of the mess. 

"You look like a crazy person. And if you hadn't been acting like one yesterday we wouldn't be in this mess," Shane snapped. "Come on, let's just get there. For a rotten freak, this bastard's heavy." 

Shane dropped his bag on the floor of his dark kitchen and reached over to flip on the light. Dishes he really needed to deal with were piled beside the sink, mail that needed sorting on the counter, and he'd been late this morning- well, yesterday morning- so he'd left the paper in three sections on his table. 

He needed to shower. He needed to do a load of laundry, wash the dishes- that couldn't really wait- and throw shit back into his bag so he could haul ass back to Rick and Lori's- 

He drew in a sharp breath and looked down at his hands, holding his keys and still stained red in the crevices of his knuckles and under his fingernails. He set the keys down on the counter when he saw how they rattled in his shaking hands and stood looking blankly at the wall. 

Rick had been shot. Shane had fucked up and hadn't seen the third man, and his best friend in the whole damn world had been shot and was in surgery in the hospital. He'd had to go and tell his friend's wife, a woman Shane himself loved even more than the sister he'd barely gotten to know, that her husband was in the hospital and it was his fault. 

It didn't matter that she didn't believe that; it was true. It was his fault. 

He fumbled his phone from his pocket and looked down at the blood smeared over the keys, lighting the screen to see the message he'd typed in the back of the ambulance was still there. 

\---- Rick's been shot. I don't know what to do.

Shane tossed his phone across the room with a yell and stalked toward his bathroom, stripping off the uniform stained with Rick's blood as he went. He'd get rid of it all later; he could always order more. 

He'd lost Ace to that bastard Malcolm fucking Hall. He might lose Rick to a goddamn car thieving bastard he should have seen. He was losing the people he cared about one by one, and he'd be damned if Lori or Carl were next. 

Shane scrubbed at the bloodstains on his hands and made a promise right there, that whatever it took, whatever they needed- he would be there for Lori and Carl. And when he could, he'd figure out how to help Ace, whether she wanted it or not.

Maybe he did have a goddamn hero complex.

Shane slowed when he heard Ace's voice coming from the courtyard. It was her bartender's voice, but under it he could hear real distress and he was even more pissed off. He should have been there for her for this. Or better yet, this shouldn't have even been happening. 

"Rick was there for Shane, when they were cops for real. I refused to let him help me, and it torn Shane apart. Rick watched that, and Rick saw me after Mal nearly killed me. Rick saw me still bruised, nearly a month later. He couldn't stand by and watch someone else go through that. Shane couldn't have either, and neither should you. You have to understand, when you live with it, you start to think it's normal. That you're fine. But you aren't. And it's up to those around you to protect you when you can't protect yourself." 

Shane stepped through the gate with Rick and all eyes turned to them. Ace was facing the crowd, her back to the entrance and the fire turning her blonde hair orange and gold, and Shane remembered her beaten and swollen face, hair like living flame surrounding the lurid colors and the split lip that had started bleeding when she saw him and smiled. 

"That's what Rick was doing. He was protecting someone- three someones, because there were children at risk as well- who couldn't protect themselves. He wants to protect all of you, too, and-" 

Shane tossed his twice-dead fucker at the ground as Ace finally noticed the looks on everyone's faces. Rick's walker joined his as Ace's eyes widened slightly. Other than that, she didn't react, and he stalked over and pulled her against his side. 

"Hi, hero. Problems?" 

Shane scowled at Deanna and the rest of the crowd as he nodded at the walkers. "Which idiot left the goddamn gate open?" 

"Oh, fucking hell," Ace mumbled. "They really are children." 

"I asked the father to close it," Spencer said, his eyes wide. 

"Well, he fucking didn't," Shane snapped. "It was open. Dead got in." 

"Go," Deanna commanded, her own face pissed as she looked at her son. Spencer took off at a run and Shane drew in a deep breath, trying not to snap that it wasn't open anymore. How dumbass lucky were these people? 

Rick decided it was time for a speech. Shane couldn't fault his logic; it was, after all, a drama-heavy moment. A Rick Grimes inspirational message was probably called for. "I didn't bring them in. They got inside on their own. They always will. The dead, and the living, because we're in here." 

Shane shook his head. There it was, he thought. There was the stubborn, persuasive bastard who made miracles happen. Though this one seemed like it was already heading the direction of a declaration of war, not the impassioned pleading of the man who'd gotten them into the CDC. 

Ace leaned close and whispered in his ear. "Democracy's out again." 

Shane smothered a laugh and ran his fingers down her arm as he watched Rick work his magic. Deanna looked pissed, her face pale and pinched in her black coat. Reg stood beside her, hand on her shoulder, and Shane thought maybe, if the man held as much sway with his wife as it seemed, they stood a chance. Everyone was on their feet now, the Alexandrians grouped together as far from the walkers as they could get. 

Shane did a quick count of their people. Abraham and Merle stood to one side of the gate, both looking bored and irritated. Two peas in the damn pod, Shane thought absently. Carol hovered just apart from the Alexandrian women, Michonne behind her looking wary with her arms crossed. Eugene huddled in his coat, staring at the walkers, and that was it for their crew. He didn't see Sasha or Maggie or Glenn or the father, and he should have. Rosita was with Tara, and Carl had stayed home with Judy, but four of their people were unaccounted for and Shane didn't like it.

"And the ones out there, they'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to use us. They'll try to kill us," Rick said slowly. 

"I swear to god, he should have background music," Ace whispered. "How does he do this?" 

Shane shook his head. "I've no idea. Fucking all our lives. Man's got superpowers." 

Rick scanned the crowd, looking like a demon in the firelight with blood and brains all over him, but he had the whole group in the palm of his hand. "But we'll kill them. We'll survive. I'll show you how. We will show you how," he added, with a nod Shane's way and a gesture toward Abraham and Merle. 

He turned toward Deanna and Reg and sighed, rubbing at his temple and staring into the fire. "You know, I was thinking- I was thinking 'how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives?' But I'm not gonna do that. You're gonna change. I'm not sorry for what I said last night." 

Shane sighed. So much for his advice. But as usual, and despite all signs of it's impossibility, Rick was doing it again. 

"Shane thinks I should be," Rick added, with a glance his way. "So does Michonne." 

"Oh, so you were listening?" Shane muttered. "Didn't think you heard me." 

Rick's lips twitched in a smile, but he was focused on Deanna. "I'm not sorry for it, though. I'm sorry for not saying it sooner. You're not ready, but you have to be. Right now, you have to be. Luck runs out," he added, turning back to the crowd. 

Shane saw the way Jessie's face changed right before Ace's hand clenched in his. Shane turned, shifting so Ace was behind him, and she let go as Pete came stumbling into the courtyard. Man was clearly drunk, but Shane was focused on Michonne's sword in his hands. Michonne's sword was in Rick's house, with Carl and Judith. What did this asshole do to get it? 

"You're not one of us. You're not one of us!" Pete yelled. 

Shane was done. He was done with bastard abusers, and thing was, he didn't have to follow the letter of the law anymore. Like Rick had said, sometimes the law didn't know the whole story. 

Shane moved up to block Pete's path, ready to put him down if he made a single damn move. There was no way this asshole was laying a hand on his wife or kids again, Shane decided. Not tonight. Not with Shane there. 

Reg stepped to Shane's side, eyes fixed on Pete with a concerned expression, and Shane reached a hand toward the old man to try to get him to back off. Pete was drunk and had a weapon; this was a job for the professionals. The old man had the right idea, but he was just going to get hurt if he put himself in Pete's way. 

Shane knew men like Pete, and they didn't respond to reason. "Reg-" 

Reg ignored him, trying to get the drunk bastard to calm down. "Pete, you don't want to do this."

"Get the hell away from me, Reg. Get out of my way!" Pete snarled. 

"Pete, just stop," Reg urged. Pete shoved at Reg with his free hand, his glassy eyes fixed on Rick.

Shane reached to his side for a gun that wasn't there, but that was fine. He had a knife and he had his fists, and if these people thought Rick was deadly hand to hand, well- Shane had been using his fists for justice and revenge a hell of a lot longer than Rick had been so uncivilized. "Man, you're gonna wanna stop now." 

He'd better give him at least one warning, right? Maybe Shane was still more of a cop than he realized. 

Pete finally focused on him instead of Rick, who hadn't said a word since Pete appeared. Shane held up a hand to block his forward progress, and Pete's face twisted. 

Shit, Shane thought. Here we go. Time slowed, like it had when the bullet came out of nowhere and put Rick on the ground, or when the Governor had swung the sword Pete held now into Hershel's neck, or when Otis had shot through the deer and hit Carl. He knew it was the opposite, really; that everything was happening so fast others would barely know what to think, but for Shane, for a moment, the split second when Pete's face changed lingered. Shane grabbed Reg's shoulder to pull him out of the way. The bastard was going to do something stupid, and the old man didn't need to get hurt in the process. 

Reg and Pete continued to argue, and time snapped back into focus as Shane saw it happening. Pete wasn't looking, wasn't thinking. He brought Michonne's sword up between them, so he could shove Reg back with both hands, and- 

Shane lunged as Pete shoved, and for a moment he didn't register that he got cut, too. Michonne kept her goddamn blade honed sharp enough that he didn't feel it, but he felt the wet spray hit his face and heard the gurgle of Reg's attempts to speak through the blood flowing from the gash in his throat. 

Ace's voice held pure panic as she yelled his name, and he knew she'd be in this fight if he didn't put the asshole down now. Shane lashed out with a hit that clipped Pete in the jaw, and then pain hit so hot and fast it made his head swim. He staggered to the side, touching his shoulder and feeling the blood on his fingers, and Merle Dixon grabbed him and steadied him as the world swayed again. 

"Ya aight, pig; keep ya damn feet," Merle grunted. 

Shane blinked, looking for Pete, cause that hit hadn't been enough to take him down and Shane knew it, but Ace was at his side looking terrified as she pressed her jacket to his shoulder with her jaw clenched so tight he was afraid she'd break a tooth. "Where's-?" 

"Shut up, Dickhead," she snapped. "You're bleeding." 

"This is him! This is him!" 

Pete was yelling it, Deanna was sobbing, and Ace half-turned, her face going from terrified to a righteous fury that had Shane chuckling under his breath. 

"Rick's got it," Merle declared, anger crackling through his voice as he let go of Shane and grabbed at his sister. 

Shane had steadied now, and pressed his own hand over Ace's. "It's fine, sweetheart. Just a cut. Nothing major," he told her, but honestly he had no idea. It fucking hurt, but there were more important things going on, and he could tell his Slugger was about to unleash the temper that led to her drawing a blade on Andrea or chucking a pipe wrench through a window while he and Rick fought. 

She didn't move her hand or take her pissed-off eyes from where Abraham had Pete pinned on the ground, her whole body tense and practically vibrating with raw anger. Damn, he adored her, Shane thought almost woozily. And he should probably be sitting down.

"It's him!" Pete screamed again. 

Deanna's face hurt to look at as she took her eyes from Reg's body in her arms and looked up at Rick. Shane winced at the blank expression on his brother's face as he waited, knowing what was coming. "Shit," he muttered. 

"Do it," Deanna whispered. 

Rick pulled the stolen gun from under his jacket, turned, and shot Pete in the head without a word. 

"Rick?"

Ace jerked, the voice making her jump like Rick shooting a man in the head hadn't, and both of them turned to the courtyard entrance. Daryl looked confused and worried, standing in the doorway with his crossbow drawn and in his hands, Aaron at his side and some dude in a tan jacket and carrying a walking stick staring at Rick. 

Rick's head tilted slowly in a look of complete confusion. "Morgan?"


	50. Lie #50: "One's All You Get." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
past child abuse  
probable medical inconsistencies I'm not even gonna act like I know what I'm doing cause I don't   
mild smut

You clenched your fist in your balled-up jacket and breathed slowly through your nose. Your fingers were wet through the fabric, and you didn't give two shits about what was going on behind you with that bastard or who the fuck was with Darrie and Aaron. He was with them; that was good enough for you. 

"Merle, Darrie, help me. Shane's-" 

"I'm fine, Slugger, calm-" Shane's eyes had gone glassy, and he swayed hard on his feet halfway through that sentence. 

Merle chuckled as Daryl darted over to grab Shane's other arm. Shane scowled at them both and shook his head, blinking hard like he was trying to clear it. 

"Get him to the infirmary," Rick ordered. "Ace, Pete was-" 

You shot him a hot glare as you started moving toward the gate, your brothers sweeping Shane along despite his continued protests. "Pete was no one important. I can handle it." 

"I told you, Slugger, I'm fine," Shane mumbled. 

You took one bloodied hand off his chest and shoved the door to the infirmary open, sick fear and lingering rage making you bitchy as fuck. "Sure. That's why you're trying to bleed out all over my hands. Rosita! I need- holy shit." 

Tara was awake. Tara was awake and staring with wide eyes as your brothers dumped your idiot boyfriend onto an exam table. Shane blinked, his face so damn pale it scared the shit out of you. 

"Tara," he mumbled. 

"Dickhead, lay down and shut up!" 

Rosita swung a light over as you pushed Shane back, and he squinted in the sudden light. He started to protest, half-sitting back up, and you were about to scream at him if he didn't settle his fucking ass back down and let you fix him before he bled out. You'd knock him out like Michonne did to Rick if you had to. 

"Best do as she says, pig, you done lost a fair amount of blood. Come on, let lil sis get ya fixed up," Merle advised. "Tara! Good to see ya tired of sleepin' on the job."

"Oh, shut up, asshole," Tara fired back. "Ace, what's-" 

"Had ourselves a dust up out there," Merle interrupted her soothingly before you could say anything. "Don't ya worry about it none, girlie, everything's under control. Ace, Daryl and I are goin' back to backup Rick. Didn't like the vibe when we left." 

You grunted, focused on Shane's shoulder. You pulled your knife from your belt and sliced his shirt away from the cut, tossing the bloody fabric in the same direction as your jacket. 

"Shit, sweetheart, if you just wanted me out of the uniform I could have found easier ways," Shane said with a pained laugh. 

You ignored him and focused on breathing. "Jesus fucking Christ. Rosita, I need-" 

She handed you a bottle of peroxide and you blinked at it. 

"Well, I was thinking whiskey, but yeah. Yeah, that works. Alright, hero, this shit is going to hurt," you informed him. Then you upended most of the bottle over his shoulder and chest. 

Shane hissed, his jaw going tight, and you followed the peroxide with water Rosita also handed you. The cut ran from the top of his shoulder to almost the center of his chest, and it wasn't pretty. If he'd been just a little closer to Pete, it would have hit Shane's artery as well, and- 

You shoved that thought out of your mind and focused on what was in front of you. It was long and it wasn't exactly shallow in a lot of places, but it also wasn't as bad as it had looked on first glance. You'd stitch him and bandage it, and he'd need to not be a dumbass for awhile- walker fighting was definitely out, as was all fist fighting, damn it. If he needed to take someone on, he better fucking have a gun to everyone else's knives. 

But he'd be fine. He'd be fine. 

You bent over and kissed him before you set the first stitch. He had his eyes clenched shut and had apparently decided to follow your order to shut the fuck up, and you knew this wasn't going to feel good. 

Shane sighed against your lips, his fingertips brushing your cheek as you pulled back. His lips quirked in a barely-there smile. "That was nice. Let's do that some more." 

"No. One's all you get. I have to put your skin back together since you decided to almost get yourself killed. Goddamn hero complex," you said with a roll of your eyes. You took a deep breath and willed your hands not to shake. "Sorry, Dickhead." 

"Ain't nothing, sweetheart. Had stitches before. Finish fixing me so we can get to the part where- what's Daryl say?" The question came out strained as you got to work, but he still managed to wink at you with a grin. "'Gotta let ya blubber all over me'?" 

You didn't dignify that one with a response. 

The door burst open when you had two stitches left. Shane had his eyes closed again, his jaw tight, and he'd stopped trying to tease you. You weren't much better, trying to pretend this wasn't Shane you were working on, but someone else. 

You jumped when the door opened, looking up wildly as Glenn and Nicolas staggered in, leaning on each other, beaten up, and bloody. 

"What the fuck?" you snapped. 

Rosita rushed over to Glenn as he dumped Nicolas onto the other exam table, but it wasn't that bastard you were worried about. It was Glenn. He moved like it hurt, and you glared at Nicolas. This was his fault, you just fucking knew it. 

"You guys look like shit," Tara said mildly, and you watched Glenn's eyes go wide. 

"She's fine. She's fine. She's ok," Rosita reassured him. 

Glenn was halfway to her bed, his eyes shining as he looked from her to you, when Maggie's voice came from the doorway. 

"Tara?" 

You sniffled a little at the look on Maggie's face. Tara had saved Glenn and Merle and gotten Glenn back to Maggie. You thought about her blood on your hands, much as Shane's was right now, and your eyes shot back to Glenn when Maggie went to his side. 

"I'm ok. We were out there. The walkers and- we're alright," Glenn assured her. 

Cold anger welled up. "You were out there? With him?" 

"We're alright," Glenn repeated. His eyes held yours and urged caution, and he winced when Maggie shifted his jacket and hissed. "I'm fine. Got winged by a ricochet." 

"You got shot? Goddamn it! I- fuck. Give me a minute," you snarled, and bent back over Shane. 

His eyes were open now, and as hard and pissed as you felt. "Finish me up, Slugger, then go patch up Glenn while Nicolas and I have us a little chat." 

"Why do you get to do it?" you muttered back. "It's my turn to punch him." 

"No one's punching anyone," Glenn insisted. "Come on, Ace. It's fine. We're fine." 

You kissed Shane when you finished and leaned your forehead to his briefly. "Stay down." 

"Yes, Slugger," he answered dryly, and you glared again before heading over to Glenn. 

Glenn caught your look and shook his head, his hand locked in Maggie's. "I'm really fine." 

"Yeah, yeah, everyone's fine, but everyone's fucking bleeding." 

That one got you a chuckle as you poked at Glenn's shoulder. Gunshots weren't something you had a lot of experience with, but considering Rick had just put down the town doctor, you figured you'd better do your best. Luckily it was a through-and-through, which meant you didn't have to go digging around for a bullet. 

"Holy shit." 

You didn't look away from Glenn's shoulder- what was it with shoulders tonight, fucking hell- when Eugene came in. You dabbed at it with the rest of the peroxide you'd used on Shane, and even you were grinning when Tara replied. 

"Thank God. Nothing happened to your hair," she deadpanned. She chuckled, and you could hear the laughter in her voice as she spoke again. "Ok, Eugene's freaking me out. Somebody want to send Noah in here to protect me?"

You froze, and your eyes locked on Glenn's. The sick churning in your stomach was echoed in his eyes, and you heard Shane's muttered oath.

Merle winced as you dabbed at the cut above his eye. "Shit, sis." 

"Sorry," you whispered. You didn't want him to know how close you were to crying. Dixons were tough, damn it. You bit the inside of your cheek and tried not to think. 

"Come on. I know that tone. Ya gonna blubber on me?" Merle's voice was teasing, but you still felt ashamed somehow. You shook your head rapidly, turning to grab a butterfly bandage from the first aid kit. "Sis…" 

You opened the bandage and caught your lip in your teeth as you applied it carefully to Merle's forehead. He grabbed your hands when you sat back and lifted his eyebrows at you, clearly waiting. His face was already turning colors, and your vision swam as your eyes filled with tears.

"Merle, why don't we have a mom to take care of us? Shouldn't we have a mom?" 

Merle blinked and laughed, but it didn't sound like he thought you were funny. He tossed his head and let go of your hands, gesturing sharply. "Cause ya mom died two years ago, Ace. And mine don't give two shits about me. Come on, now. We only got each other, lil sis. You, me, and Daryl. Ya know that." 

You gulped and wiped at your eyes, squaring your shoulders. "I know. I just wish we had someone who'd make him stop." 

"Ya do. Me," Merle said firmly. "Quit blubberin', sis. It's gonna be aight. How's that cut look?" 

"Better than your face," you mumbled automatically, but you couldn't help but wonder who was going to save Merle from Will when he was getting hurt saving you.

Daryl wrenched the door open as you reached for it, Shane's good arm around your shoulders and a heaviness in your heart. It had been an awful day in a serious of awful days, and you were exhausted and sad. Darrie glared between you when you blinked at him in surprise. 

"I's just comin' to get ya. Walsh, ya done tryin' to bleed out?" 

Shane snorted and patted Daryl's cheek as he passed him. "Missed you too, man." 

Daryl glared and closed the door behind you. You reluctantly let go of Shane, keeping an eye on him as he headed into the kitchen to sit at the counter. Then you turned to your brother, who had the resigned expression of a man doomed and waiting. 

"Is it time to blubber?" he asked. 

You flipped Shane off when he started to laugh and tossed your arms around your brother. "Shut up. I missed you. Who the fuck was that guy?" 

"Shit, sis, I think you'n'Shane got more to catch me up on," Daryl protested. He hugged you back tightly, though, and you had a feeling he'd been up to more than he would want to admit to. Either that or you were all expecting this time to be the last time you got to see each other, and that was too depressing a thought to consider even in your current mood. 

Merle's voice came down the stairs along with his heavy footsteps. "We all got some stories to share, don't we? Guess it's a good thing we got us some booze and some food, huh? Regular Dixon family reunion." 

"Fuck you, I'm a Walsh," Shane muttered. "And I'm sure as hell not drinking any of your shitty toilet brew." 

"Suit yourself," Merle said with an exaggerated shrug. He reached into the upper cabinet as you reluctantly let go of Daryl and headed over to sit close to Shane, your hand creeping toward his. "'Sides, ya done been adopted into the clan."

Shane's fingers twinned with yours and squeezed. "Why aren't you guys adopted into my clan?" 

"Cause there's three of us and one of you," Darrie fired back. He slid bowls of something that smelled of Carol's magic along the bar in a move that had you thinking of beer glasses and the Lullaby with a wistful ache, then leaned in the corner and shoved a spoonful into his mouth. "And ya ain't married our sister yet, so we're bein' generous in lettin' you in," he added around his bite. 

You groaned. "Shit, Dar. Just- fuck it." 

Shane laughed. "I mean, he's right, Slugger. But hey, I found you a priest." 

"Do not," you said firmly. "You don't mean it." 

"Says you," Shane shot back, but he grabbed his spoon with a wince and changed the subject. "Fine, I'll be a Dixon. Still ain't drinking that swill." 

Merle raised his glass cheerfully and took a long drink, and your nose wrinkled in disgust. Daryl snorted and shoveled in more food, and ok. This smelled amazing, whatever it was. You didn't care. 

All was quiet while the four of you scarfed down Carol's magic, then you leaned back and eyed your twin. "You never did answer my question. Who was that guy?" 

"Morgan. Morgan Jones. Apparently he's the asshole who saved Rick's fuckin' life when he woke up in the hospital." Daryl tossed hair from his face and Shane shifted. Daryl's eyes flicked to Shane and he stabbed his spoon in Shane's direction. "Stop that. Ya thought he was dead. Lot of fuckin' water under that bridge, man. Aaron and I, we got ourselves into some shit, lookin' for food. Was a goddamn trap. Remember that walker we saw, sis? Had the 'w' on its forehead?" 

You frowned. Shit had happened since then, and you'd forgotten about that. You reached for Shane's hand again now that you were done, and he pulled your chair closer to his so he could wrap his arm around you. "Darrie's right about Rick, Dickhead. Yeah, I remember. Did you find more?" 

"Shit, yeah. Found some poor woman chained to a tree, guts cut open, W carved into her face. She'd just died, too, and hadn't even turned yet. Then there were these trucks, food trucks, an' when ya opened one, all three of 'em opened and walkers were everywhere. Thought we was done for; trapped in a car. We were gonna fight our way out, and this man with a fuckin' staff comes outta nowhere and starts bashin' heads in," Darrie continued, oblivious to the way you'd gone tense. 

"Darrie, what the fuck," you interrupted. "You were what now?" 

He rolled his eyes. "Don't start. I'm fine. Morgan saved us, and he had this map. Path to Washington highlighted and some bullshit about-" 

"'The new world is gonna need Rick Grimes,'" Shane said. 

Daryl shot him a look as Merle laughed. "Yeah, that. He said he knew Rick, and Aaron and I brought him back to find Walsh here bleeding and Rick shootin' a guy in the head. Ya'lls turn. What gives?" 

"Shit, I done told ya already," Merle put in. 

"Told me Rick got in a fight with the dead guy and then took over the joint. Didn't tell me why." 

"Because he was an abusive bastard. He was beating up his wife and kids," Shane snarled. "And he scared your sister." 

"Thanks," you said dryly when Merle and Daryl both straightened and looked at you. "Stop it. He never even spoke to me." 

Shane muttered something under his breath and Daryl relaxed slightly. "Also, some shit went down on that supply run. Merle can fill you in, but I'm taking Ace up for a shower and sleep." 

"Yeah, we know what that means," Merle said suggestively.

You glared at him as Shane pulled you to your feet. "Oh shut the fuck up. You and Michonne were two seconds away from fucking in the kitchen when I came in." 

Daryl choked and started coughing and Shane turned to look slowly between you and Merle. "What?" he asked. 

Merle just grinned. "And it would have been fun, too. Settle down, both of ya. Daryl, ya cain't breathe the food, damn it." 

"Shut the fuck up. Michonne?" Daryl sounded incredulous and faintly impressed. "Seriously? We all joked about it, but-" 

"I saw it. I wish I hadn't. I'd like to bleach my memory," you declared. 

"We're just fuck buddies. Ain't nothin' but a bit of stress relief. Put ya damn eyeballs back in ya heads, all of ya. Walsh, don't keep my sister up too late now," Merle said with a wink. "And keep it down. I'm going to bed." He strolled up the stairs and Daryl and Shane both turned to look at you, questions in their eyes. 

Shane heavily suggested you go to sleep while he showered, but you ignored him. You insisted on helping him, since he didn't need to be trying to raise the one arm above his head, and he insisted he could do it alone. 

You compromised and perched anxiously on the counter while he complained that he was fine. Since you ignored him, he finally kissed your cheek and stepped into the shower with a sigh. Companionable silence was broken only by the steady noise of the water, and you closed your eyes and tried to let go of the fear that still lingered in your mind. 

You'd seen the sword come up, and blood had sprayed, and Shane had thrown the punch so fast you thought he'd been fine. Then he'd staggered, and your heart had stopped. 

A few inches, and he'd have been dead, you thought again. You pressed your hand to your mouth to hold in the sob that wanted to escape. You were tired of close calls, damn it. Tired of losing people and being afraid for them. 

Alexandria had to be made safe. 

"Hey. Slugger," Shane said softly. You hadn't heard the shower cut off, but he took your hands and you opened your eyes to his. "I'm ok." 

You scoffed and nodded at the bandage taped over so much of his arm and chest. "No you're not." 

"Aight, fine." He tossed his head, biting his lip and giving you that look that always slayed you. "I'll give you that one. But I'm gonna be fine." 

"You could have died." 

"But I didn't. That asshole could have killed you out on that run. You see me freaking out?" He asked, eyebrow up. 

You rolled your eyes. "You were two days ago." 

"Fine. You can freak out today then, but tomorrow I expect it to be over," he said easily. "Wanna freak out in here, or in bed?" 

Your lips twitched; you couldn't help it. Shane laughed when he saw it and you looked away, trying to not laugh yourself. 

"Not what I meant, Slugger, but hell, you know I'm always game," he teased, tugging your hands until you slid off the counter and into his arms. 

His skin was still damp, hair dripping a little down the back of his neck. You lay your cheek against his shoulder- the one without the stitches- and stroked a hand down his back. "Damn it, Dickhead." 

He laughed under his breath and threaded his fingers through your hair. "I know. I'm sorry." 

"No, you're not. You couldn't help it. Damn hero complex." 

He met your eyes when you lifted your head to look at you. "Yeah. You're probably right," he admitted. "Still." 

"Yeah," you whispered. "Shane, kiss me." 

He didn't need to be told twice, his hand in your hair sliding down to cradle your cheek as his lips brushed yours. You dug your hands into his back and pressed closer to him, needing more than that sweet touch. You'd almost lost him. 

You needed to remind yourself he was still here. 

He made a hungry noise in the back of his throat and his hand curled around your neck, drawing you in as he obliged. His tongue swept yours, and the kiss went from sweet to steamy in a heartbeat. Your hands slid to his hips, and he crowded you back against the counter while his lips stayed on yours. 

You broke away reluctantly, just enough to mumbled a question. "Bed?" 

His response wasn't really coherent as he kissed you again, but he did pull you with him and start maneuvering you both toward the bathroom door. You laughed into his kiss and he snarled a little, his hands roaming your back, your arms, your sides as you half-stumbled and bumped into the door frame. 

You yelped and he winced, pressing his forehead to yours with a whispered apology. You shrugged and grabbed the towel around his hips, yanking it off and tossing it back toward the bathroom. 

"Oh, alright then," he said, shooting you a sly grin. "Someone's in a hurry- shit!" 

His eyes closed when you wrapped a hand around him, his grip on your hips going from a loose caress to bruising-tight. You laughed this time, trailing your fingers lightly over him. "I mean, wouldn't you be?" 

"I fuckin' am," he growled. He had your shirt on the floor and his hands on your breasts before you could think, and you moaned at his touch. He pressed a kiss to your neck as he spun you around and pulled your back to his chest, his hands already dropping to your jeans. "You just had an advantage. Not for long." 

You gasped when he bit at your racing pulse, but you grabbed his hand before he could slide it inside your jeans. You turned in his arms and kissed him again, then held his eyes and bit your lip. You shoved your jeans and underwear down, holding his heated gaze as you stepped out of them and back into his arms. 

He pressed his forehead to yours, his fingers trailing lightly down your sides, and you framed his face in your hands. His mouth was soft against yours again, saying things neither of you were good at finding the words to say these days. Not when you'd said them so many times before. 

You pushed insistently and he sat down on the edge of the bed. You followed, lips still locked on his as you settled into his lap and onto him with a sigh. He gripped your hips and started to roll the two of you, but you made an unhappy noise and broke the kiss. 

"No," you whispered. "Your shoulder." 

"My fuckin' shoulder's fine," he argued, his mouth chasing yours. 

You pressed your fingers to his lips and swallowed hard, looking him in the eyes. "Shane." 

He studied you for a moment and nodded, taking your hand and turning it palm up. He kissed along your palm and to your wrist, running his tongue up your arm as your head tipped back and your eyes closed. You rocked your hips slowly and he groaned against your skin, wrapping both arms around you as he kissed the rest of the way up your arm, along your collar bone, and up your neck. He took your mouth with his again as you upped the pace, and your fingers threaded into his hair as you kissed him back just as urgently. 

It didn't take long for you to be whispering his name over and over against his lips, your hands sliding down his neck, across his shoulders, and back into his hair as you drove yourself up that wild peak and flung yourself over it. Shane grunted, pulling you against him and burying his face in your neck as he followed you over, clinging to you as hard as you were to him. 

You didn't realize you were crying until his name came out in a strangled sob, and he took your face in his hands and started raining kisses over your cheeks and your lips. 

"Slugger. I'm sorry. I'm ok. I'm ok." 

"I could have lost you. Dickhead, I could have-" You couldn't get the words out, squeezing your eyes closed as your throat clenched. 

"You didn't. Come on, sweetheart. I'm right here." Shane half-lifted you, scooting back so he could stretch out along the bed. He pulled you down with him, and you curled up at his side with your head on his chest. He played with the ends of your hair with one hand, his chin on your head, and you grabbed his other hand and held it tightly in yours. "I'm ok. We're both ok, and Rick's- Rick's gonna be in charge now. This place, it's strong. We're gonna make it stronger, right? It's all gonna be ok, sweetheart. I promise." 

You closed your eyes and held him tighter, resisting the urge to tell him not to make promises he couldn't keep.


	51. Lie #51: "I Don't Know If We're Friends or Not, But I'll Consider It" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence   
canon-typical violence

Shane refused to stay in bed, which wasn't exactly a surprise. Neither of you were particularly good at resting up and healing, and the end of the world only seemed to have made that worse. 

"Besides, after all that last night, these guys? They need a hefty dose of normal. Somehow, 'normal' became me and Rick and Michonne wandering around solving problems, so I'm gonna wander around and solve some problems," he said with half a shrug. 

You scowled at him, and he smiled innocently up at you. "Just sit still and let me do this, then. And don't do anything that'll pop these stitches. I'm tired of putting you back together, ok?" 

"Yeah, yeah. I promise I won't try to bench press Daryl's bike, sweetheart." 

You couldn't help but laugh at the one while you changed the bandage and checked for any signs of impending infection. Luckily, it was clean. "Stay inside the walls," you ordered. 

His eyes softened when you gave the order with his face cupped in your hands, and he nodded and pressed a kiss to your palm as he rose. "What are you doing today?" 

"Probably painting," you admitted with a grin as he frowned at his shirt, clearly trying to figure out how to get it over his head without lifting his arm too much. You took it from his hands and tugged it over his head yourself. "Or cooking with Carol. I don't know; I'll find a way to entertain myself." 

"Might consider checking up on Jessie," Shane said slowly. "I don't know if- Just figure she could use a friend." 

You paused in the act of picking up his jacket, then turned and held it out to him with a smile on your lips that you didn't feel at all. You'd rather saw off your own foot, frankly. "I don't know if we're friends or not, but I'll consider it." 

"Don't bartender me, Ace," Shane warned. "You won't, and that's fine. Just was saying, it might be good for you both." 

"Hmmm," you murmured, and he kissed you softly before heading downstairs. 

Yeah, there was absolutely no way in hell you'd be doing that. Now you definitely needed to paint. 

It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. You didn't know. You were deep in the clutches of this painting, the only thing on your mind outside of it being that you wished you had music. 

After the events of the last few days, you figured everyone needed a reminder of what you were fighting for. The outstretched hands lay palm up and empty, and a riot of tiny, intricate details formed the veins in the arms. Planets and stars mixed side by side with rivers and trees and mountains, city buildings with lights that shaped constellations, and shadows of people and the stages of life. It was going to be hours of tedious work before it was done, and you were fine with that.

You never minded tedious work, not when it was for your art. 

"Ace. Sis! Don't fuckin' swing at me." Daryl's voice shattered your concentration completely and you found yourself suddenly and forcibly back in your body, perched precariously on the edge of the porch roof and leaning out to get the guidelines laid out for the top of the piece. 

You squinted down at him as you shifted to a more secure hold. "What the fuck? Don't you know better? I could have fallen!" 

"Yeah, 'cause ya shouldn't be doin' that shit. Fuckin' hell, sis, we got ladders." Daryl tossed his head and jerked his hand in a dismissive motion. "Ain't what I'm after. Come on, Rick and Shane asked everyone to gather. They found somethin' big out there, them and Morgan." 

Your eyes narrowed and you dropped the paint can into the bag at your side, sliding down the slope of the porch roof and over the edge. You rolled to your feet, planted your hands on your hips, and glared at your brother. "Shane went outside the walls?" 

"Shit. Yeah, I think so," Daryl said slowly, eyeing your face. "Oh, Walsh gonna be in deep shit, ain't he? Don't fuckin' pull your knife or I'll have to take it from ya." 

"No. Dickhead's a grown man, he can make his own choices," you said as you started down the road toward Deanna's. Daryl fell in step beside you and handed you a cigarette, looking deeply unimpressed and unconvinced. You blew smoke out of your nose as you gave him a bland look. "He'd just better have a damn good reason for going out there when he said he wouldn't." 

"Fuckin' hell. Ya gonna rip him a new one," Daryl muttered.

"Rick asked me to go with them and keep an eye out for walkers while they dug," Shane muttered immediately when you stepped to his side. "I didn't do a damn thing, and I had a gun." 

You met his look with a coolly displeased one of your own, and he sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. 

"Come on, Slugger, they were goin' out there to bury Pete. It's Rick. I'm supposed to watch his back, and I'm glad I did. This shit isn't gonna be good, and we hammered out the best plan we could come up with," he continued, stepping closer and whispering since the room was filling up with Alexandrians milling around. "Don't be pissed." 

"Don't tell me what to do," you shot back through a fake smile and a wave at Olivia. "I get it, but I don't like it. Should have told me. You wanted me to stay in, after the supply run, and I did. And all I had was a knock on the head. You have an open wound that needs to heal and not get walker blood all in it." 

Shane sighed. "You're right. Sorry, sweetheart." 

"Yeah, yeah. What's the latest emergency?" you asked, taking his hand and nodding toward where Rick stood in the center of the room. People were taking seats or gathering around, and Shane pulled you over toward the group of them. 

He shook his head. "Walkers. A fuckin' shit ton of walkers." 

Daryl glanced up from his perch in the window seat when you leaned against his shoulder. "Ya alive, Walsh. Must have talked fast." 

"Shut up, Darrie." 

"Don't call me that, damn it." 

"Play nice, kiddos," Merle called as he and Abraham came in the door. 

You lifted an eyebrow at him. They were all the way across the room; there was no way he'd heard you. "What makes you think we're not?" 

Most everyone was smiling, though you noticed a couple of confused faces in the crowd you'd never seen before. Where the fuck had they come from?

Merle shrugged and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I raised you shits. Ya never playin' nice. Aight, we all here, Officer Grimes. What's the crisis this time?" 

When Shane said 'a fucking shit ton of walkers', he apparently hadn't been exaggerating. If anything, he'd been underestimating. 

There was a quarry not far from Alexandria, apparently, and it was full of the dead. Literally full. Semi trucks had blocked off the exits, probably done to keep a camp at the bottom safe. This was according to one of those new faces, a man named Heath. He and his team had been on a two-week supply run and had just gotten back this morning. 

He said they'd seen the camp early on, and everyone inside had been dead. No one had been back since, with DC and the other towns worth scavenging all being in the other direction. 

"So all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound, and they're making more sound and drawing more in," Michonne said. 

"And here we are," Rick agreed. "Now, what Shane and I are proposing- I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east." 

East meant toward Alexandria, you thought, and closed your eyes with a mental groan. Thousands of them, Shane and Rick had said. An army. A horde. Not even just a herd, like you were all used to. A horde. 

But Jesus fucking Christ, Rick was right. It was a risky fucking plan. 

"All of them, coming right at us," Shane put in. He leaned on the wall near Rick now, backing him up but as usual letting Rick do the persuading. "It wouldn't be good."

You turned your attention to the group. All of your own people looked worried but determined, and you'd seen that coming. It wasn't those of you who'd been out there that needed to be convinced to do something about the threat. It was everyone else. 

"This isn't about if it gives; it's when. It's gonna happen," Rick continued. "That's why we have to do this soon." 

"This is- I don't even have another word for it. This is terrifying," Carol said, her fake as hell housewife voice and wide eyes in place. "All of it. But it doesn't sound like there's any other way." 

You eyed her again, wondering what was going on deep in that woman's mind that had her convinced she still needed to con the world. You were in charge now. Rick was in charge now. That much was clear, what with Deanna standing staring out one of the windows and not saying a word while Rick and Shane ran this meeting. Carol didn't need to pretend anymore. 

Unless, of course, she wasn't pretending for them. She was pretending for her. Damn it, you wanted her to talk to you. She hadn't been right since- well, since Lizzy and Mika. 

"Maybe there is." 

You turned from your contemplation of Carol to another of the returned scavenging crew. Carter looked mildly disgusted and completely baffled and you knew immediately that he was going to be trouble. 

"I mean, couldn't we just build up the weak spots?" he continued. "I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg. Construction crew- we can try and make it safe." 

"Even if ya could, the noise they's makin' just draws more," Merle grunted. "Cain't leave 'em built up like that." 

"We're gonna do what Rick says. The plan he's laid out." Deanna didn't turn from the window when she spoke, and you added her to the list of problems that needed dealing with. 

"We’re gonna have Daryl leading them away," Rick began, clearly about to go over it again. 

You eyed your brother, mildly concerned but knowing him and his bike were the best for it. He rolled his eyes at you like he know what you were thinking, but he leaned into you where you leaned against him. 

"Me too," Sasha declared. "I'll take a car; ride next to him. Can't just be him. I'll keep them coming; Daryl keeps them from getting sloppy." 

"Ill go with her. It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo," Abraham added. 

You actually felt a little better about that. Daryl leading this shit alone had been gnawing at you. What if he went down? What if he ran into trouble? There were too many what-ifs when it came to him being alone, and you didn't like risking your twin that way. With Sasha and Abraham going along, you wouldn't have to do what you'd been considering. That would have been more of a battle that you were honestly prepared to fight, all things considered, and the one you were probably going to have would be enough. You met Shane's eyes and held them, knowing he wasn't going to like what you were going to do. 

Rick nodded and kept explaining their plan again. "We'll have two teams. One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, and Holly. Shane's gonna stay to keep an eye on things here. Let that cut heal up. So they're out. But who's in?" 

You didn't take your eyes from Shane. "I'm going." 

He scoffed and shoved a hand through his hair. "Think I didn't know that already, sweetheart? Rick and I were betting on it when we made the plan." 

"Don't worry, pig, I'll keep an eye on her," Merle put in with a wink at you. 

You sighed. "Once again, despite all evidence of it's futility: Ace can keep an eye on herself. Rick, you've got all three Dixons." 

Rick was smiling faintly at your antics, which honestly was part of the point. "Never doubted it." 

Carter caused trouble, but then, surprisingly, made valid suggestions. That was a good thing, since you'd almost decked him when he questioned why everyone should follow Rick and started talking about him shooting a man in the face. Daryl had muttered an "easy, sis" when you'd shoved off his shoulder and gone tense, but Deanna had put a stop to it. 

You were worried about that woman, and you didn't even like her. But Alexandria needed her, at least until they got used to the new world order, so you were pleased when Glenn volunteered but Maggie said she was staying behind. Maggie would help get Deanna's head back on straight. 

Then that idiot Nicolas had volunteered. You'd said no. Glenn had said no. Shane and Merle had both looked ready to eviscerate him right there. 

But he'd looked Glenn dead in the eyes and said the magic words. "You need people, and we have to do this. I have to help." 

Rick had said yes, and Glenn had shaken his head and waved you off when you'd have gone after him anyway. 

Two days later, you were working with most of the damn town to build a smaller version of the wall around Alexandria. It would block off an intersection and give the horde something to bounce off of as you herded them away from home. It was Carter's idea and his design, and you begrudgingly admitted it was a good one. 

Of course, you didn't like that Shane was out here with everyone else, but after a long, extended, full-volume discussion that included you calling him an assortment of interesting names ("I really like Shanizzle, sweetheart, you should stick with that one," he'd said dryly), you'd given in. You had one condition- that he be there strictly as a lookout. He'd agreed; there'd been some making up; and Merle had yelled crude suggestions until you'd thrown a shoe at your closed bedroom door to get him to go the fuck away. 

Shane was, of course, not doing as told and was helping with things he shouldn't have been, and you fixed him with a hard stare as he rolled a wheelbarrow toward Carter. He saw your look and offered you an innocent smile, chatted for a minute, and clapped Carter on the shoulder. Hands in his pockets, Shane wandered over toward you. 

You leaned on your shovel and didn't let your expression soften. "You're supposed to be letting that heal." 

"I am. Thing was empty. Didn't strain anything," Shane said easily, reaching up to tug on your hair. "You can check my stitches thoroughly when we get home," he added, letting his eyes wander up and down your body. 

You snorted. "Stop that. I'm a damn sweaty mess." 

"I like it when you're sweaty," he shot back, biting his lip suggestively. 

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling, and he leaned in to kiss you. He took it just this side of steamy, until you pushed him away with a breathless laugh. "Go keep an eye out for walkers, damn it. Do your job." 

"Stop looking so sexy with that shovel and maybe I'll be able to," he called as he strolled away. 

You slapped a hand to your face and groaned as laughter rang out from everyone around you. "He's an idiot," you informed them all, but you were grinning as you got back to work. 

You wandered over to get water from Carol, who turned on a bright, empty smile as she laid a hand on your arm. 

"Rick asked me to hang back, keep an eye on how they're doing with all this," she said in an undertone. 

You sipped water and lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm not surprised. Carol, I'm worried about you." 

"I'm fine," she dismissed. "I'll stop when Alexandria is safe, and you can give me all the bar stool therapy you'd like then. But we haven't finished integrating, yet. Deanna's in charge, but Rick's in charge now. They have to accept it before we're really safe." 

"You know, I want to be offended at 'bar stool therapy', but you're not wrong. It's coming. I'm your friend, and I care." 

Her smile turned real for a moment as she looked at you. "I know. What's going on with Nicolas?" 

You grimaced. "I'm going to deck him." 

"That seems like a good idea," Carol said brightly, and you snorted into your water. "I'll keep an eye on him, too." 

"We're all keeping eyes on him. He's not a threat, not really. Just a douchebag who's pissy about being reminded of his own insignificance. Carter's the one I'm concerned about," you said with a glance his way. "He's not happy, and it shows." 

"Oh, he's at the top of my list," Carol agreed. "Here, take these to Maggie and Tara." 

You took the cups of water and followed her nod, seeing them standing close together and looking serious. "Tara shouldn't even be out here," you muttered. "Damn it, why can no one take the time to heal?" 

"How's your head, Ace?" Carol asked mildly. 

You shot her a look. "I'd flip you off, but my hands are full," you informed her, and walked off with as much dignity as you could muster while she laughed. 

"He got Noah killed?" Tara asked it of you even as she took the cup you held out. "And almost did you, too?"

You nodded, exchanging a glance with Maggie as you handed her water as well. Maggie's eyes went hard as she took it. 

"He did more than that," she said slowly. 

Your eyebrows shot up. "What?" 

"He lured Glenn into the woods that night and tried to kill him," she said flatly. 

You blinked at her. "I'm going to shoot him between the eyes." 

"No, you're not," Maggie said simply. "Glenn told me I could tell everyone if that's what I wanted to do. Could get Nicolas exiled. He'd die out there. I could have done that. You two could do that now." 

"He got Noah killed, and bashed Ace over the head!" Tara snapped. "And he tried to kill Glenn? And you're not sharing that information?" 

"Glenn saves people," Maggie said, sounding both proud and exhausted. "Even people like that." 

"Goddamn hero complex is fucking contagious," you muttered. 

Maggie's lips twitched. Tara's didn't. Maggie sighed and looked beyond you, toward Glenn and Nicolas working together. "I couldn't accept it either. But then I thought about you, Tara. How we were on different sides of that fence on the worst day of my life." 

You froze, thinking about gunfire and a tank and smoke, the world collapsing around your ears far more painfully than it had the first time. The pain, the swell of certainty that Shane and Daryl and Merle and everyone you loved was dead and gone filled you again, and you swallowed hard, your eyes searching out your Dickhead and your brothers to remind yourself they were alive. 

"Now you're one of the most important people in the world to me," Maggie continued, her eyes on Tara. "Things can get better. We can make them better." 

Well, damn. You thought about Merle and how he'd worked for the Governor, too. He'd beaten the shit out of Glenn, helped that asshole terrorize Maggie. He'd tried to kill Michonne, you thought as you glanced over toward where the two of them were bickering cheerfully as they set a support pole. Now look at them. 

Fuckbuddies, you thought with a shudder. Never mind, you didn't want to look at them. 

But Maggie's point had sunk in, and you pinched the bridge of your nose as you glared over at Nicolas now. "I'd still like to punch him," you muttered. "Tara, it's up to you. But if you don't want him dead on the spot, do not, under any circumstances, mention any of this to Shane or Merle." 

"Just tell me what you want to do," Maggie said softly. 

Tara sniffed, looking pissed and sad still, but less murderous than before. "I'm, ah. I'm just going to follow your lead, ok?" 

Maggie nodded and pulled her into a hug, and you looked over to find Glenn watching the three of you. He smiled faintly and nodded, and you narrowed your eyes at him pointedly. He shrugged in response, and you sighed. 

Fucking heroes. 

You were leaning on the hood of the truck and talking to Carol when Shane whistled. Both of you straightened up, all talk of who was going to be the most trouble in the long run and who would be a good choices for watch rotations forgotten. 

You both had knives in hand and you shot Carol an amused look. "Gonna blow your cover, woman. Put that thing away and hang back unless you want to prove you're a closet badass." 

Carol scowled at you, but you were already heading over toward where Rick and Shane had converged. The rest of your group was joining them as well, and Shane whistled again to get the attention of the clueless Alexandrians. The sound made you smile, remembering teaching it to him in Georgia, since it was one of the ones you'd learned as a kid.

"Carter. Heads up," Rick said. "Here they come." 

You watched the trees. There were only a few of them, it seemed. Your people could handle it easily. Michonne had her sword in hand, Daryl had his crossbow on his shoulder, and the rest of your crew were pulling knives or- in Merle's case- holding a pitchfork out like a lance. Where the fuck had he even found that?

"Use your shovels," Rick called to Carter and the others with him as the three walkers came stumbling toward them. "Guns will draw more attention." 

"Why aren't we-?" you muttered to Shane. He was eyeing Rick as well, but Rick had a hand up to hold you all back. 

"Help us!" Carter yelled, his eyes wide. 

Oh, you thought mildly. That was why. These guys were in a blind panic over three walkers, and you got where Rick was coming from. Especially for the ones planning to be on walker parade, they needed the practice. 

But four more were coming through the trees and Rick's calm encouragement meant nothing to the people who were clumping together and backing away. One kid kicked out at the lead walker and then promptly fell down, and your teeth ground together in annoyance. 

This wasn't the way. 

You shot Rick a look, and then Morgan stepped forward, bow up. You hadn't had much chance to talk to him, but damn it, you agreed with him. 

"Morgan, don't!" Rick yelled, and you took off for the fallen teenager. "Ace! Damn it!" 

"Don't fuckin' raise your voice at her like that," Shane snapped behind you. "Especially when she's right."

You rolled your eyes even as you grabbed the first walker, knife going up and in with ease. You tossed the body aside and stepped in front of the kid on the ground, the only one who'd even tried to engage with them. "Up, kid. Get your feet," you urged as the next one came at you. 

Daryl's crossbow twanged and it dropped, and you shot a glare over your shoulder. You could handle this, damn it. Your people had engaged now, Michonne's sword slinging blood as she loped off two heads. You figured it was a good thing, since you caught movement back in the trees as more of the dead trickled in to join there party. There were still few enough you weren't worried, not with the fighters you had there, but there was enough collective stupid around too to make ending the fight quickly a priority. 

The kid climbed to his feet as what used to be a woman headed your way. He scooped up his shovel again and you flashed him a smile. "That's right. Shovel out. This one's yours, ok? Take out the brain. With the shovel you've got reach and- Nice!" 

The kid brained the walker with the shovel and she went down, but she wasn't out. You slammed your heel down on its head, squashing it the rest of the way, and grimaced at the blood on your shoe. Beside you, Rick grabbed the last walker, slammed it up against a tree, and stuck his knife through its eye. Then he glared at you. 

You looked back steadily and shrugged. "Not sorry, Rick." 

"You said you don't take chances anymore," Morgan said when that hot glare turned to him. 

Whatever that meant, it seemed to work, because Rick turned and shot Carter an assessing look before walking away. "Let's get back to work." 

You patted the kid's back and headed to where Shane had his thumbs hooked in his belt, shoulders set and clearly arguing with Rick. He looked toward you as Rick got that stubborn bastard look on his face, and you shoved a hand through your hair and sighed. Time to go play mediator, you thought. Hopefully you wouldn't have to throw any tools over whatever it was. 

'Whatever it was' turned out to be the proper way to deal with Carter and training the Alexandrians, and luckily it didn't take too much effort to get the two of them to back down. Shane's biggest problem was Rick yelling at you, and while you appreciated it, you reminded them both that it was not the first time and most certainly wouldn't be the last. 

That had gotten a reluctant smile from Rick, which lead to a smirk from Shane when you asked if you needed to grab something to launch at their heads so they'd see reason. That had put an end to it, really, and it was back to work for everyone. 

But Carter lingered in your mind, and you kept an eye on him as you finished the wall. The next day would be a dry run through the whole plan, start to finish, to check for kinks. Then you'd do it for real. Everyone needed to be on board, and despite his assistance with the wall and his insistence on being there for the plan, you didn't think Carter actually was on board. 

And he'd been shooting Rick some looks after the walkers. 

You hooked your thumbs in your pockets and wandered the streets in search of Shane, bored and wanting company. You were too restless to paint, though the unfinished piece called to you, and you wanted to talk some shit through with him. A clatter from the pantry and armory had you frowning at the door. That was unusual. 

"Hey, sis, what the fuck was that?" Daryl asked. 

You glanced over and shrugged. Rick, Morgan, and Daryl exchanged looks, and Rick headed toward the door with a sigh and a muttered 'now what?' 

He opened it and froze, and his voice was hard as a rock. "What the hell is going on?" 

"Shit," you mumbled, and peered over Daryl's shoulder, your hand on his arm. 

Carter held a gun on Eugene, who was on the ground against one of the supply shelves. Tobin, Spencer, Francine, and Olivia looked distressed, and Carter's hand shook as he held the gun at Eugene's head. 

"What are you doing?" Rick asked, his voice deadly. 

"I'm taking this place back from you," Carter answered. 

Ok, you had to give him points for guts. You leaned your forehead on Daryl's shoulder with a groan. "Idiot." 

"Shut up, sis," Daryl muttered. 

"That's what you were talking about in here?" Rick asked the others. 

"That's what he was talking about," Spencer replied, emphasis on the 'he'. 

"I would have set up some lookouts," Shane's voice came from behind you. He ran a hand down your back as he stepped around you and inside. "That would have been the smart thing, right, brother?" 

"Yeah. It would have," Rick agreed. "You know, if I happened to-" 

He moved in a blur, slamming his elbow into Carter's gut and snatching the gun from his hands. Shane grabbed Carter as he staggered forward and forced him to his knees, Rick leveling the gun at the back of his head instantly. 

"You really think you're gonna take this community from us? From Glenn, from Michonne, from Daryl, from Shane? From me? Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" Rick snarled. 

Carter had his hands up, his eyes terrified as you stepped over to Shane's side. "It was just me," he said quietly. "Not the others. Don't let him punish them. You two aren't like him."

You blinked in surprise. "Us? Really? You haven't been paying attention, man." 

"It was just me. Just kill me," Carter repeated. 

Rick didn't say anything. His head tilted to the side and he had that look in his eyes, like he was weighing consequences. Shane sighed and ran a hand through his hair, but it was your brother who spoke. 

"Rick," he said softly.

Rick looked up, at Daryl first and then over at Shane. "I'm good," he said, and spun the gun in his hand. The hammer clicked again, and Carter's eyes closed. "I'm good." 

Shane stepped forward and took the gun from Rick. "Right call, brother." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. He looked down at Carter, his eyes still hard and angry. "You can try to work with us. You can try to survive. Would you do that?" 

He looked up at Rick, confusion all over his face, and nodded. 

"Rick should have killed him," you told Shane. "He's a hazard." 

"Can't just go around killing everyone we don't like," Shane countered. 

You rolled over and sat up to look at the monitor on the bedside table, smiling at the sight of Judith sound asleep. You liked having her in the house. Merle and Daryl turned into the world's softest touches whenever she was there, and watching your rough and tumble big brother playing one-handed peekaboo had been a delight after dinner. 

"It's not about disliking him," you argued. "He tried to kill Eugene and threatened to kill Rick." 

Shane pulled you close to him when you laid back down, curling around you like a teddy bear. "Your brother tried to kill Glenn and Michonne, but we let him live. And Nicolas tried to kill you and Glenn." 

"They told you?" 

He snorted and kissed the base of your neck. "No one had to tell me anything. I have eyes and I'm not an idiot. He'd be dead if it was up to me, but it's not. Glenn thinks he can be saved. So, he's alive. For now. Same for Carter. He's scared, and scared people are stupid. Up to us to not be." 

"Hmm," you agreed. "When did you become all reasonable?" 

Shane sighed. "Somewhere about the time Rick turned into an idiot over Jessie, I think. I don't like it either, but someone's gotta keep their head. And you and Carol are right with your ideas on integrating, even if Carol is being weird as fuck."

"Carol wants to infiltrate, not integrate," you muttered. "I'm worried about her. Keep an eye out tomorrow?" 

"Sure," Shane agreed. "Hey, if you're not gonna let me sleep, I have some ideas for what we can do instead." 

"You always have ideas," you said with a laugh. "I'm not sweaty anymore, and I already checked your stitches." 

Shane's lips cruised up your neck. "Yeah, well, you can always check them again," he whispered. You shifted toward him, his hand sliding up your side and fingers trailing over bare skin, and-

Judy started to cry.


	52. Lie #52: "Next Week, For Sure" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
past referenced domestic violence/abuse

You scowled at the rifle Daryl held up and shook your head. "I've got my Glock, and the flare gun, and like sixteen knives. I'm good. It's just a dry run." 

Daryl's eyes narrowed at you, but he shrugged and tossed it to Merle instead. Merle snatched it out of the air without looking up, deep in conversation with Abraham about something for the expansion, after the walkers were dealt with. You didn't really want to know. 

"You should take the rifle," Shane said. 

You rolled your eyes. "It's a dry run, and all of these guys have weapons, too. I think I'll be fine without it." 

"Maybe," Shane said mildly. "But I'd be happier if you took one. Besides, the only reason I'm letting you go is both your dumbass brothers are going too." 

Merle broke off his conversation mid-word as your eyebrows shot up and you stepped back from him. Daryl groaned from behind you, and you crossed your arms as you stared at Shane. 

"Excuse you? You're not letting me do jack shit, Dickhead," you snapped, before you caught the dancing light in Shane's eyes. "Oh, for shit's sake." 

Daryl clapped a hand on Shane's shoulder, shooting you that asshole look that had gotten you in a shit ton of trouble over the years. "Your funeral, man. Nice knowing you." 

"Someone grab Ace before she draws a blade!" Merle hollered. "The pig thinks he's 'lettin'' her do somethin'!" 

Laughter ran around the group gathered at the gate, and Glenn, his fingers twinned in Maggie's, groaned dramatically. "It's the farm all over again! Shane, remember what happened when you threatened to lock her in the house?" 

Shane gave you a long, hot look that said he most definitely did. So did you, and heat rose in your cheeks and coiled in your core as you thought about the backseat of a Hyundai and the moment you realized you were head over heels in love with your best friend. 

Shane's look turned into a smirk. "Yeah, I do. I'm hoping for repeat." 

"Oh, settle down, hero," you shot back, trying not to grin foolishly and having a feeling you were failing completely. 

Merle snorted. "I don't know what ya thought you were brinin' up, kid, but they definitely fucked after whatever it was." 

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Glenn said dryly. 

You flipped them all off as Shane closed the distance between you with a predatory look. He swept you up by the elbows and kissed you hard, and you ignored the whistles and cat-calls to kiss him back. When he set you on your toes again, you shook your head at him, trying not look annoyed and not aroused. Once again, you had a feeling you didn't manage it. Damn him. 

"Be careful," he ordered. 

"Whatever it takes," you agreed. "You too." 

Shane glanced around Alexandria incredulously. "Shit, sweetheart, I'm doing nothing today." 

"If you two are done making out now, we need to hit the road," Rick called. 

You waved a hand without turning around, kissing Shane again before stepping reluctantly away. "I'm coming, I'm coming. See you tonight, Dickhead."

Rick was giving a speech, which was hardly surprising considering the circumstances. And hell, it was probably needed. The dry run had been going well, all of you tracking the path on foot and in reverse, starting from the end. There'd been some pause at the tractor supply store with the walkers all up in it, but the Alexandrians had handled that fine. You'd take the walkers out on the way back home, Rick said, and the group pushed forward. 

The actual sight of the quarry, filled with so many walkers you were now starting to think even Rick had underestimated them? That they weren't handling quite so well. You were thinking maybe Rick should have brought them out here before now, to get acclimated to the idea. Then again, every time you brought a bunch of people here, you ran the risk of the walkers crowding against the trucks blocking this end and moving them. 

"It's that simple," Rick said, and you tuned back into the sound of his voice knowing he was coming to the end of his speech and getting back to the plan. "This is where is all starts tomorrow." 

You smothered a laugh, glancing up at Rick when he proved you right. Daryl shot you a look. "What's so funny?" 

You shook your head, leaning against his shoulder as he stood with his arms crossed. He scowled and jerked his shoulder to try to shake you off, but you didn't let him. 

"Tobin starts one of the trucks, opens the exit and we're off. He hops out, catches up with his team at red, staying on the west side of the road." 

"I still think he should have a partner," you muttered to Daryl. 

"So tell him, not me," Daryl muttered back. 

"Daryl gets on his bike-" 

You shifted upright, eyes shooting across the quarry with everyone else's as the creaks, cracks, and rumbles filled the air. "Oh, fucking hell," you whispered. 

The rock beneath the wheels of one of the trucks blocking the other exit- the one leading straight back toward home- crumbled and fell away. Daryl's hand locked on your arm, and you closed your eyes and winced when the truck tumbled and fell. 

"It's open! We gotta do this now!" Rick yelled. "We're doing this now!" 

Utter chaos. 

Tobin's group was on its way, the man himself heading to the cab of the truck. Sasha and Abraham were already moving, set to meet Daryl at red after he lead the parade down the gauntlet. Rick was throwing out orders like a general, and your brain whirled with the ways this could go wrong. 

"Oh, shit, Rick-" you spun toward him just as Glenn yelled his name. 

"I'll hit the tractor place," he offered. 

Rick nodded, already moving to the next problem. "Ok, who else?" 

"I'll go," you offered. 

"Like hell you will," Daryl snapped. "You're with Merle, Ace."

"I can take care of myself, damn it!"

"No, stick to the plan," Rick disagreed. "You two on the west side, I don't have to worry about Tobin's group." 

You hesitated, but finally agreed. It wasn't like there was a lot of time for debate. "Fine. Merle!" 

"Rick, this was supposed to be a dry run!" Carter's annoying voice rose, panicked and angry. "We haven't even gone through the whole plan!"

You got up into his face as walkers started shoving through the small gap between trucks. "The plan? The plan is, do what you're told and don't get bit!" you snapped at him. "It's open. They're heading toward home. You want that surrounding the walls? Didn't think so. Now do what you're supposed to do!" 

"Ace!" Merle's voice cut over the chaos and you waved him off. His group needed to be gone, and you were apparently busy with this idiot, who latched onto your arm and didn't let you leave.

"We can't! We can't!" 

Rick's hand grabbed Carter's and twisted, breaking his hold on your arm. Rick looked furious, but none of you had time for this shit. "You want to leave, then leave. We're finishing this," Rick said coldly. "Ace, you're-" 

"I know, I know," you muttered, glancing around for your group. "Oh, fuck it. Change in plans, Rick. I'm with Darrie. He's not doing the gauntlet alone. They're too scattered; he'll need the hands." 

Rick hesitated, but again, there wasn't time for argument, especially since you were jogging over to Daryl's side already. He glanced at you as Rick shouted more orders and the flares started. 

"Fuck ya think you're doin'?" he asked. 

Tobin fired up the truck and pulled away, and Daryl let loose a bolt at the determined bastard who had lost three quarters of his face squeezing between the trucks. You grinned and hopped on the back of the bike as he restrung the crossbow, then took it from his hands and looped it over your back. "I'm helping you keep these idiots together. Come on, we don't have time to argue." 

Daryl scowled, but he swung on and revved the engine. "Walsh is gonna kill ya." 

"Naw," you disagreed, leaning into Daryl's back and keeping your eyes forward instead of on the horde of the undead stumbling toward you. "He'll try to kill you. I'll save you though." 

"Shit. Awful cheerful considering the plan just got shot to hell." 

You glanced back once as the bike started moving, staring at the sea of half-rotten bodies shambling toward you. "Yeah, well. That's life these days, isn't it? Laugh or you cry." 

Thing was, you thought as you faced back forward deliberately and rested your chin on Daryl's shoulder, you were excited for this. These walkers, they were something you could control. Something you could defeat. All that shit back home, with Pete and Noah's death and all the memories Jessie had been stirring up- it'd been wearing on you. This would clear your mind of all that bullshit, and it was important. 

And hell, it might even be fun. 

"You all have your assignments. You know where to rendezvous. Daryl and Ace lead them out. Sasha and Abraham join them at the bottom of the hill. Glenn, you hit us when you take care of the walkers at the tractor place. That's the one thing we gotta get ahead of." Rick's voice crackled out of the radio on Daryl's shoulder, and you bit your lip as guilt stirred.

You'd tried to go with Glenn, and you still thought you should have. He'd ended up with Heath and fucking Nicolas. Heath seemed fine, but that asshole- 

If anything happened, anything at all, you might not be able to let Nicolas continue to seek redemption. 

"Everybody, keep your heads. Just keep up," Rick added. 

"Who does he think he's talking to?" you asked Daryl. You were fidgeting now, and you hadn't even made it to the bottom of the hill. You were close, and you saw the junker Sasha and Abraham were in waiting for you. The adrenaline rush from the sudden change in plans was still sweeping you and creeping along was, frankly, boring. "There's us, and Glenn, and Abraham and Sasha have a walkie, and Merle and Tobin. Our people don't need a pep talk." 

Daryl grunted, which was more of an answer than you'd expected, to be honest. 

"Also, who's fucking bright idea was this? You leading them on your own, through all those cars so you couldn't even veer off to the side in an emergency." 

"Ya cop boyfriend's," Daryl said. "Hey, when ya gonna marry him already?"

"Seriously?" you asked, incredulous. "You're concerned about him making an honest woman out of me? Right now?"

"Ya bored, and you ain't never gonna be honest," Daryl grunted. "Just makin' conversation. Here we go. First leg down."

You eyed the red balloons and sighed. Only the first leg, and it was the shortest one. Maybe you should have gone with Merle after all. Then you glanced back behind you, the horde's groans and hisses and shuffling noises registering in your ears, and you decided all over again you'd made the right choice. Sasha and Abraham fell into place, Sasha giving you a look through the rolled-down window. You smiled brightly and waved. 

"Hey, guys. I hitched a ride." 

Abraham grinned. "I noticed. Shane's gonna bust a blood vessel, you know." 

"Why does everyone assume he has a say in what I do?" you demanded. "I can take care of myself, damn it, and he knows it."

All three of them laughed at you, the bastards. 

"Aight, here's the tricky bit," Daryl grunted. You'd slowed down to a crawl to make sure the herd was close up against you, and you eyed the wall dubiously. Earlier today it had looked solid and secure where it blocked off the intersection in a gentle curve. 

Now that you'd seen the horde behind you and three of your own were standing behind it, firing flares, you were questioning Carter's engineering skills and your people's construction acumen. 

"We sure that's gonna hold?" you asked Daryl as you made the curve with him practically walking the bike. Flares went up from behind the wall, and you chewed anxiously on your thumbnail. Rick, Michonne, and Morgan were back there. 

Daryl looked back at the walkers and met your eyes briefly. "Yeah, it'll hold. It's gotta. Want to hop off here, go find Merle?" 

"Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me?" you demanded, irritated. "It's like you don't like me or something." 

"Like ya fine, sis. Just like my face the way it is too, and Shane'll try to rearrange it for me when he finds out you jumped on with me." 

You scowled harder. "Shut up and drive the bike." 

Daryl laughed, until the first of the walkers ricocheted off the walls. Then he sobered up as well as you. 

"It'll hold," you muttered. It had to. 

You started to relax when the flares kept going up from orange as you got further away. That meant the wall was holding and the horde was still moving, and a lack of anything over the radio meant the plan was working. 

For now. 

You glanced back when Sasha yelled Abraham's name to see that idiot jump out of the car and head toward the trees. You frowned, not only because Abraham was being, well, Abraham, but also because of why he was being a dumbass this particular time. Some of the walkers were starting to wander off, getting distracted and heading into the trees. 

"Can't have that," you mumbled. "Be right back, Darrie." 

"The fuck? Shit. Ya ain't getting off the goddamn bike, sis. He's got it," Daryl snapped when he glanced back to see what you saw. 

You'd already swung around and hopped off, since he was moving at a crawl. You pulled your machete and flashed him a grin. "Sorry. I'll just be a minute." 

"Damn it, Ace!" 

You ignored him and sprinted in at Abraham's back, waving and yelling like a banshee to get the walkers' attention. It certainly worked, and Abraham whooped and jumped and grabbed the shiny silver something that had distracted the walkers in the first place off the tree. You thought it looked like one of those emergency heat-retaining camping blankets Daryl and Merle bitched about not having whenever you found yourselves on the road. You were laughing as you played tag with one of the walkers, reversing direction on a dime until you caught the attention of it and the others and lured them back to the road. 

All the sudden you had a flash of Lizzy in the yard of that little house, darting back and forth and laughing while a dead woman tried to eat her. Then you remembered blood dripping off of Lizzy's hands, her eyes wide and innocent as she stood over her sister's body, and all the fun went out of it for you. 

These were monsters, you reminded yourself firmly. And this was a job. Anything could go wrong out here, and one second of overconfidence was the difference between making it home to Shane and breaking his heart.

You grabbed the lead by the throat and sunk your knife into its skull as Abraham made his way back to you, a string of walkers behind him. You lifted an eyebrow. "We done here?" 

"Yeah, they seem to be back on track." He flashed you a grin. "Man, this is living, ain't it, darlin'?" 

You scoffed as he brought his rifle up and clocked a walker across the face. "No, it's really not. Get back in the damn car." 

"Get back on the damn bike first." 

You flipped him off as you jogged to the bike, where Daryl was twisted around in his seat and watching you anxiously. You hopped back on, smacking a kiss to his cheek as you did. He grunted and turned back to the front, revving the engine as he inched forward some more. A quick glance over your shoulder showed Abraham ducking into the car and slamming the door, and you rested your chin on Daryl's shoulder as you looked at the open road ahead. 

"Wish I had a cigarette," you declared. 

Daryl snorted. "Jacket pocket. Light me one." 

"Oh, hell yes. Should have known you'd come prepared." You fished the pack and lighter from his pocket, holding the first one out to him. He turned his head enough for you to light it before you did your own. "How far have we come?" 

"Ain't sure. Not five miles yet," he mumbled.

"Remember that drive from Atlanta to the CDC? You and me in the truck, Merle's Triumph in the back?" 

He grunted. "Sure. Why?"

"I dunno. Just thinking, it was like we were just starting to be family again back then. Hardly felt like I knew you," you said slowly. "I missed the shit out of you, Darrie. You and Merle. I've been- look, it's not a big deal, ok? But all that bullshit with Rick's crush and the bastard, it brought up some stuff. Stuff I'm happier not thinking about. And I just wanted to tell you, it was never about you guys. It was easier to be mad at you than look at what was going on with Mal." 

"Gonna piss me off ya try to take the blame for that shit," Daryl warned. 

You huffed and waved one hand in an annoyed gesture, but realized he couldn't see it. "The first time he hit me was after that lunch we had." 

Daryl went still, his head turning slowly. "What?" 

"Eyes front; you're driving. It's ok. I'm alive and he's not. But he said a bunch of bullshit, about how we thought we were better than him- we Dixons- and suffering for his art and how my 'little paintings' we nothing compared to Grave Behavior." You took another hit and shook your head, half-laughing. "I told him not to belittle my art and he asked if I'd get my brothers to beat him up over it. I should have stopped then, but I threatened to knock him on his ass. And, well, I didn't do that. Destroyed my piece I was doing. I don't think I've listened to Kings of Leon since." 

There was a pause before Daryl spoke, and you heard the anger rolling under his words. "Don't know what Kings of Leon has to do with shit, but I wish you'd fuckin'- shit, sis. He smacked ya around over me bein' an asshole about his band?"

"I was listening to them at the time. No, he smacked me around because he didn't like how close I was with you guys. He'd been isolating me from you before that, and when that didn't work he took it up a notch. That worked," you said clinically. "It wasn't your fault. It would have been something else eventually." 

"Fuckin' hell. Wish you'd realize it weren't your fault neither," Daryl shot back. "Listen, sis, ya gotta-" 

The blast of a horn filled the air from somewhere in the distance, and you jumped so bad you had to grab at Daryl to keep your balance on the bike. 

"What the fuck?" you demanded, turning and looking hard at the road behind you, like the source of the noise would just appear hovering among the walkers. "Darrie, what the fuck?" 

"Shit. I don't fuckin' know. But that sounds like-" 

"Home," you agreed grimly. "It sounds like it's coming from home." 

\--- Hey, we on for lunch tomorrow? I ain't seen ya in three weeks

You blinked down at your phone and winced. You'd forgotten. Damn it. You'd cancelled on him twice already and you missed your brother. Maybe-

You bit your lip and ducked into the bathroom to get a look at your face, and winced again. No help for it. The bruise under your eye was still vivid enough that you didn't want to risk it. Darrie had sharp eyes, and even makeup wouldn't be enough to keep him from noticing and asking awkward questions. 

You really had to stop pissing Mal off, you thought with a sigh. You missed your brothers. 

\--- hey, look, I'm really sorry but I can't. Had a last-minute deal come up. Next week? 

\--- damn it, sis

\--- I know. I'm sorry. 

\--- Shit. It's fine. Just miss ya. Merle says hey.

You smiled at your phone and sighed, chewing on your thumbnail. Yeah, you missed them too. Even Merle and his probably high ass. Daryl had mentioned last time you'd seen him that Merle was getting a little too into testing out Vatos product, and you were worried. Daryl had tossed his head and said he had it under control, but you wanted to check in. 

\--- tell him I said hey back, and he can work a damn phone too

\--- Naw, he cain't. he's too

You lifted an eyebrow and waited for a beat, but another message didn't come in. 

\--- he's too what? 

\--- Too fuckin' stupid to not take my phone, for one. Too high to work the phone these days. Imma kick his ass he don't stop that shit. Hey, Will called. Was gonna talk to ya about it tomorrow

You sneered at the phone. "The fuck does that bastard want?" 

\--- the fuck did he want?

\--- Us. Turns out he got cancer, and it's bad. Merle's gonna go see him. Figured I'd tell ya

"Why would you do that? He beat you up the most, Merle," you mumbled, but hey, if that's what your brother wanted, that's what he could do. You were never going back to that tiny apartment. Will could choke on his own blood and piss and vomit for all you cared. Bastard. 

\--- yeah, alright. Thanks, I guess. Hey, Darrie, I'm really sorry. Next week, for sure

\--- yeah, yeah. Call me sometime, damn it.


	53. Lie #53: "Doesn't Matter What Ace Thinks." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
minor character death  
references to past domestic violence

Ace rolled out on the back of the bike with Daryl, flashing him a grin and blowing him a kiss as they pulled through the gate, and Shane shook his head with a laugh. "You better be careful, Slugger," he muttered. 

"She will be," Maggie answered. "It's hard. Watching them leave, and not going too. Even if it's not the real thing." 

Shane grunted and glanced at her. "Why didn't you go? You're a badass out there, Rhee. I'm sidelined 'cause of that damn idiot with a sword. What's your reason?" 

"I chose to stay," Maggie said softly. Her eyes landed on Deanna, and Maggie nodded her direction. "She's important too. Losing Reg- well, I know what I'm like without Glenn. I can't imagine how much worse it'd be to know for sure he wasn't coming back. She needs to remember what this place can be, what it will be. I'm staying to show her." 

Shane watched Deanna on her porch, staring blankly into space. The woman looked devastated, and Shane felt the cold, black despair of finding Ace's shirt on the road creep over him again. He shivered, and shook his head to clear it. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it too." 

"I know you do," Maggie agreed. "We all do, every one of us. That's why I stayed. We can help her, and this place needs her. We're going to talk about expanding, like Reg was. I'm taking her outside the walls to find a good spot for crops. If there's one thing I know, it's farming. And it's time." 

"I think this place needs more than just her," Shane said, bumping his shoulder into Maggie's. "Your dad would be proud of you. I'm sorry I couldn't save him." 

"Don't be. It was what was meant to be. It was the worst day of my life, but there wasn't anything we could have done differently," Maggie said, her eyes getting a faraway look. "But I hope you're right." 

She touched his arm gently and started off toward Deanna's. Shane sighed and shoved a hand through his hair, thinking about the old man who'd saved Carl's life on the worst day of Shane's. Yeah, he'd be proud of Maggie. Shane wondered if Hershel Greene would be proud of him, too, and he half-laughed at himself. 

That was a stretch. Hershel had hated him for awhile, and tolerated him after that. Proud? Probably not. Especially after Shane had let Beth get killed. 

Grief speared through him, hard and rough, and he sighed again. "Make sure you take a gun, Rhee," he called to Maggie's retreating back. 

She turned and shaded her eyes, walking backwards. "You think I'm stupid, Walsh?" 

"I think you're just as reckless as me. You just cover it better." 

She paused, her expression considering. "You might be right. Maybe there's a reason I like you, despite what you did to my Daddy's barn." 

Shane blinked at her, amazed she was bringing that bullshit up and guilty as usual for how he'd handled all of it, for Otis, and for being an asshole. "I didn't do shit to the barn, damn it. They broke out on their own!" 

Maggie shrugged, and Shane realized he was being teased. "That's a technicality. Maybe it's a good thing you didn't go with the others, or the walkers migh 'break out' of the quarry." 

"Go away now, Greene," he ordered, glaring. He stalked off as she laughed. 

He tried not to stress, tried to do as he'd been instructed and relax. Let the cut heal. 

He couldn't relax. He trusted Ace and trusted Rick and her brothers, and yeah, he saw the reasoning behind it and had stayed willingly. Didn't mean he had to like it. 

He patrolled the town for awhile. Nothing happened, like he'd told Ace it wouldn't. Restless, he headed toward home. He'd check in with Carol and Carl, cause the kid had been annoyed at not being invited to the walker party. Shane got it; but Carl was somewhere he could be a kid. So, they were making him be a kid. 

Didn't matter that Shane knew damn well, as did Rick, that Carl would never be a normal kid again. They'd been through to much, and Carl had been forced to do too much. But Shane and Rick had been in agreement- Carl stayed home this time. 

Shane headed into Rick's house without knocking. He had a sudden flash of déjà vu so bad he almost toed off his shoes in the doorway when a woman's voice called "hello?" 

"Hey, Carol," he yelled back, his heart clenching. He missed Lori, damn it. Not all the bullshit that had happened between them to get everything twisted up, but the woman he'd known since middle school. "Just Shane." 

Carol had a chef's knife gripped in her hand when he came around the corner, and Shane lifted an eyebrow. "Shit, woman. Who did you think it was?" 

She didn't bother to respond, flipping the knife around and going back to chopping. She was obviously cooking, and Shane's mouth started to water at the thought. He leaned against the counter and smiled at Judy asleep on the monitor, then eyed Carol again. "That gonna feed all of us?" 

She glanced up at him, amusement in her eyes. "Maybe." 

"Can I have some now?" 

"It's a casserole. It needs to cook," she said sternly. "What do you want, Shane?" 

He grinned at her tone. It sounded more like Carol than he'd heard in awhile, and he was starting to wonder if Ace was right to worry about her. "I don't know. Ace is worried about you." 

"Ace is worried about everyone but herself," Carol fired back. She glanced Shane's way as he started to reach for one of the canned mushrooms. She slapped his hand lightly and pointed the knife at him. "Hands off. Ace has what she calls your hero complex, even if she doesn't want to admit it." 

Shane snorted. "I'm not a hero. Not anymore." 

"Oh, pookie, that's just not true." 

"Pookie? Shit, Carol. I think I prefer 'pig'," he muttered. "No, it's true. Doesn't matter what Ace thinks. See, Carol, Rick's a hero. I'm a killer. Have been since Otis." 

"Maybe," Carol murmured. She scrapped the contents of her cutting board into the casserole dish, mixed it up, and frowned down at it. "But we're good at it." 

"Damn straight," Shane agreed. "Don't make it any easier to live with." 

"You seem to be doing just fine." Carol turned when the oven beeped lightly and slid the dish inside. She twisted the timer and set it down beside the monitor, then met Shane's eyes. "I'm fine, too." 

She paced toward the window and Shane turned to keep her in his sights, wondering how hard to push. Outside, the woman who was always looking for a pasta maker was smoking a cigarette and studying the painting Ace was in the middle of. Shane could tell by the look on her face. 

"See, you and me, Shane, we see what needs to be done, and-" 

Carol cut off as Shane swore viciously, both of them going for knives as the dirty man ran silently out of nowhere and cut the woman down with one slice. She fell and started screaming and sobbing, her hands clenched over her abdomen and trying to hold her spilling guts in. 

Footsteps came pounding down the stairs and Shane turned to meet Carl's eyes. "I saw them from the window. They're coming over the walls, climbing the struts." 

"Ace said that's what she'd do," Carol said grimly. "Stay here. Guard Judith. Shane, we need to go." 

Shane nodded, shoving a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. Carl-" 

"I'm good, Uncle Shane. You know they won't get in here." 

Shane regarded him steadily for a long moment. "Yeah. I know. Love you, kid." 

"Go!" Carl shoved at his shoulder. "I'll lock the door behind you. Love you, too." 

Shane ducked out in a crouch, sticking close to the building and going for cover as they headed up the street. Carol was at his back like they'd been partners for years, and Shane met her eyes as they came to another corner. 

Carol eased slightly around and then pulled back, slapping a hand on Shane's chest to keep him in place. They watched, Carol refusing to let him go help, as one of the invaders took down a resident whose name Shane couldn't remember, stabbing him over and over in the stomach and laughing. 

"We can take him," Shane hissed. "Come on." 

"We could," Carol agreed, her voice blank and calm as her eyes. "But we have to get to the armory. He's already gone. Armory is more important." 

"People are dying," Shane snapped as more screams ripped through the air. 

Carol started forward again and Shane stuck at her back as he gritted his teeth. Her voice still held that cold, implacable tone, and Shane almost hated her for a moment. "And more are going to. If they get those guns before we do, it's all over. Do you want to save this place, or do you want to be a hero?" 

Shane stared at the back of her head as she kept moving. Damn it, he thought, wincing as Carol ducked back again. She was right. Whatever it takes, right?

He couldn't look at the body as they passed. 

"No, please. Please don't," a voice came from around the corner. Carol turned and nodded to Shane, and he nodded back. They needed to get around here, and if they could save Erin in the process? 

Well, Shane figured Carol called that a bonus. Woman really was terrifying, he thought as he followed her cheerful floral sweater in a rush around the corner. 

They were about five seconds too late, and Shane added the weight of Erin's death to all the others he could hear and those he'd seen. He grabbed the invader who'd sliced her open, his knife sinking into the man's skull as easily as it did walkers. He let him drop, eyeing the chain wrapped around him and the long coat as the beginning of a plan started to take shape in his mind. 

Erin was crying, and half-mumbling, and Shane knew they needed to keep quiet. Carol had the poor woman in her arms, muffling her pained cries with one hand and her brass-knuckle knife clenched in the other. 

Shane wondered if she knew how dead her eyes looked as she sank her knife into the base of the woman's skull. 

Carol closed her eyes as she let Erin's body fall, and Shane thought about Ace's look of vague distaste as she described Erin as "one of those who thinks she's head bitch in charge". Whatever Ace and Carol thought, they still knew her, and Shane knew that wasn't easy. 

"You alright?" he asked. He took a knee beside the dead invader- what the fuck was up with the W's carved in their heads?- and started shifting the chain off his shoulders. 

Carol joined him, her face back to cool and composed. "Of course. I always am. The coat's going to be too small for you." 

"That's alright. I'll be your prisoner until we can take another one," he grunted as he shifted the body to get the coat off. "Carol." 

He waited until she looked vaguely impatiently up at him. "What?" 

"You don't have to be. Tell Ace all the damn time, it's alright to feel things." He finally got the coat free and squinted at it critically. "You sure this won't fit me?"

Shane froze as they eased around another corner, the chain wrapped loosely around his hands. "Do you hear that?" 

"Come on," Carol hissed. She glared at him over her shoulder, eyes the only thing visible behind her stolen bandanna. With the hood up on the long coat, she looked just like one of them.

And she looked one hundred percent more herself than the sweaters-and-button-ups getups she'd been wearing. This was the Carol he knew and appreciated, the woman who'd saved his daughter and his Slugger when the prison fell. 

"No, listen- you hear it? Shit," Shane muttered, turning blindly in the general direction of the gates as the sound of an engine picking up speed finally registered. "That's big. If it hits the walls- who's in the tower? Tell me it's Rosita." 

Carol got in his way as Shane turned automatically to run for the gate. He didn't know what he was planning to do when he got there- the engine was big, he was guessing truck- but he had to go. The walls had to hold, or things would get a hell of a lot more interesting than they already were inside here.

Carol slapped a hand to his chest and Shane winced as the world went white hot. In the chaos, it seemed both of them had forgotten about his shoulder, and he wondered how badly he was going to pop the stitches by the end of this. 

"Shane Walsh, you can run around being a hero and trying to save everyone, or you can recognize the armory is our only priority and save this place for our people to come home to. The sheep are dying, because that's what sheep do. I don't need a hero right now, and Alexandria doesn't either. I need a killer," she said flatly. 

Shane stared into her eyes for an agonizing moment as gunfire echoed from the tower. Then something crashed, and the horn started blaring.

"Shit," he mumbled. Now they'd have walkers coming for the sound; maybe even have them pushing against the trucks at the quarry and breaking that damn horde loose. They had to get this situation under control, and Carol was right. For this, they needed to be killers. 

He nodded once and they kept going. 

They made it to the main road, and Shane frowned when he saw the open gate and Morgan squared off with an asshole with an axe. He glanced at Carol, who rolled her eyes and ran in from the side, silent as mouse, and ripped the man open even as he swung at Morgan. Shane jogged to the gate and glanced outside, taking in the semi rammed against the wall and wondering how much structural damage that shit had done. 

"One problem at a time, Walsh," he muttered, and swung the gate closed. 

"I could have stopped him," Morgan informed Carol. 

"Are the others back?" Shane demanded. It had suddenly sunk in that Morgan was on the walker squad, and if he was here- 

"No," Morgan said softly. "It’s happening out there." 

"They're doing it now?" Carol asked, her eyes going wide where she crouched by the body. "Shane, this one will fit you. Can't have two prisoners, that won't do." 

Shane took the coat automatically and shrugged into it. The cut burned and he hissed as he jammed his arm into the sleeves, but shit needed doing. He'd worry about getting patched up again later. "They're leading those walkers right now?" 

"We had to," Morgan confirmed. "Quarry broke open." 

Shane stared blindly at the gate. "That horn. Carol." 

"Shane! These people don't have guns." Carol shoved the blood-covered axe into his hands and snapped Shane's attention back. 

She'd painted a W on her forehead in blood, and that was actually a damn good idea. Shane dropped to the body and did the same. 

"I could have stopped him," Morgan insisted. 

"If they had guns, they'd be using them," Carol talked over him, and Shane felt that. This wasn't a matter of stopping people, but a matter of ending them. "We have to get to the armory before they do." 

"Did you hear me?" 

Shane rose and faced Morgan, looking him square in the eyes. He remembered arguing with Rick about some punk kid who could have lead his group back- a group much like these crazy assholes currently here- and a familiar rage started. He'd been the voice of reason for too damn long, and now people were trying to take what was his. "Look, man, this ain't about 'stopping' anyone. They aren't looking to stop us. They're slaughtering us. So you can either help us end them, or you can be ended. Where's Ace? She with Merle like she's supposed to be? That horn would have caught the herd's attention, no matter what." 

"Ace is with Daryl. She's helping lead the herd. You don't have to kill people. Either of you," Morgan said firmly. 

"She's what?" Shane snarled, grabbing the other man by the arm. 

Carol snapped a harsh "Of course we do," at the same time, then groaned as Shane turned Morgan to look back at him. 

"Ace is where?" he demanded. 

Morgan very deliberately pulled his arm from Shane's grasp. "She's on the bike, leading the herd with Daryl and Sasha and Abraham. If the horn drew their attention, she's probably safer where she is than with the others. You don't have to kill people." 

"He's right, Shane. About Ace," Carol declared, rising with the chain she'd been leading Shane around with in her hands again. 

"You don't like it. Neither of you do," Morgan stated. 

Shane snorted as Carol pulled the bandanna back over her face. "Like it? Naw. But it's necessary. Come on, we need your help." 

"Look, man, I need a favor," Shane said into the phone. He leaned back in his chair and adjusted the hat on his head, staring at Slugger's rap sheet on his screen and her most recent booking photo. 

She looked good, he thought, but he could see the circles under her eyes despite the way he could tell in the picture that she was chatting with the officers on duty. Hell, her eyes were laughing and she was smiling. Most people didn't smile in their mug shots. That was Ace, though. She'd made friends with half the damn station by now; he'd bet good money on it. 

"Another one? Shit, Walsh, I'm doing my best to keep your street artist from doing hard time. She's not making it easy, either." Casey sounded frustrated, and Shane chuckled around the lump in his throat. 

He scooped up a pencil and tapped it rapidly against the desk, eyes still on her face. Her hair was different, no longer the pale lilac it'd been when he'd seen her last. She'd turned it brutal, bloody crimson, and Shane's stomach churned at the memory of her blood staining the violet strands. "I bet. Slugger doesn't make anything easy. Listen, it's about her. There was- there was an incident. She didn't let me file the paperwork, and I can't give you details without breaking her confidence, but I need you guys to swing by her place as much as you can. Please." 

Casey's tone turned cool and sharp, his work tone. "What kind of incident?" 

"The kind that usually doesn't get filed." The pencil broke in his hand, and he looked up when Rick coughed loudly at his side. "Just swing by there, would you? And let me know if anything happens. I'm on the clock, Casey, I gotta go." 

"Yeah, yeah, I will. Be safe." 

"You too. Oh, and it goes without saying, man, but don't mention this to her. She'd be pissed." Casey laughed and agreed, and Shane hung up the phone and avoided Rick's gaze as he closed her record. He leaned back in his chair and smiled at the wall behind Rick's ear. "Hey." 

"Shut up. What are you doing?" Rick demanded. 

Shane scoffed and finally looked at him. "Taking care of my friend, damn it." 

"Shane, brother, I cannot let you use police resources to stalk a girl. I think you should take a couple more days off, man." 

Rick had that stubborn bastard look in his eyes and Shane snorted and shoved to his feet. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and swung it on, heading for the door and willing Rick to follow. He did, as Shane had known he would, and Shane waited until they were outside the doors and heading to the car to respond. 

"If I take any more days off, it'll be to make Hall dead. I have to work, Rick, if you don't want to have to arrest me for murder." He delivered it flatly, serious as a heart attack, and wrenched open the driver's door. "So let's go put away some bad guys, alright?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screaming HAPPY BIRTHDAY to ActualWritingTrashcan!!!!! 
> 
> Birthdays in social distancing hell are probably kinda lonely, so feel free to drop a comment if your own birthday is soon and we'll all celebrate with you, even if just here in the Liar, Liar fam. Love to you all, and try not to go too stir crazy. Also, wash your hands! -JustRamblinOn


	54. Lie #54: "And What She Doesn't Know Won't Hurt Her." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence

They didn't have far to go, and Morgan's obvious reluctance made it work. Carol carried his staff and Shane sung the blood-soaked ax, trying to look intimidating. He figured it was working- either Carol or him- when they approached the pantry and armory and no one had stopped them so far. 

Two of the invaders jogged up, barely glanced at Shane or Carol, and passed to either side of them. "Good catch, Aphid," the woman said breathlessly, and then they were gone. 

Shane let out a huff of air. "Ok," he muttered. "Almost there." 

Carol nodded and jerked on the chains attached to Morgan. Morgan stopped, his attention caught by something on the other side of the solar panels. Shane turned to look in time to see one of the invaders body-slam the priest into the ground. 

"Come on. Leave him!" Carol snapped, yanking on the chains again. Shane was with her on this one, deliberately turning away from the preacher with a sneer. 

Asshole had said their group was evil, after all, and wanted to get them kicked out. He could call on the power of God to save him, if that's what he thought. 

"No." Morgan dropped the chains and yanked his stick from Carol's hands, taking off in the preacher's direction while Shane sighed. He shoved a hand through his hair and shrugged at Carol. 

The two of them headed for the townhouse serving as pantry at a jog, Carol pulling the little snub nose she'd lifted from the armory and apparently never returned from the waistband of her jeans. Two more of the invaders were strolling up the street toward them, arms full of loot from someone's house. 

"Hey, Aphid, where'd you get the gun?" one called, and Carol shot her between the eyes. 

"Subtle," Shane muttered as she shot the other one too. 

They'd reached the pantry stairs, but the door to the townhouse above them- Deanna's townhouse- opened and two more came out. Carol fired three wild shots as she dashed for the entry, until her gun clicked uselessly. 

The invaders hot on their tails, Shane followed Carol into the pantry. She threw open the sliding doors that blocked off the regular supplies from the arsenal, but he waited just inside the exit for their shadow. The woman came running in and crashed into Carol, knocking her into the wrack of guns. 

Shane grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back, and slit her throat as Carol climbed to her feet. Carol fired over his shoulder, and Shane whirled to see a man scramble out the door and back up the stairs. 

"Damn it. I'll go after him," he offered, trying to ignore the combination of dull throb and burning pain in his shoulder and chest. 

"Wait," Carol said, already turning back toward the racks of guns. "Take-" 

She cut off at the muffled whimper. She and Shane both turned toward the closed closet door, Carol taking one side and Shane the other. He grabbed the handle, nodded to Carol, and yanked the door open. 

"Please don't kill me!" Olivia blubbered, and Shane let out an explosive breath. 

He slumped against the wall as Carol yanked the terrified woman out of the closet, and eased his shirt back to look down at the bandages on his shoulder and chest. They were soaked through with blood and he sighed. "Ace is gonna kill me," he mumbled. 

"She'll be too busy being glad you're alive," Carol said dryly. "Is anybody else down here? Olivia!" 

Olivia looked wildly between Carol and Shane, and he offered her a slight smile. "No. No, I'm the only one," she stuttered. 

"Bags," Carol said to Shane. "Grab two." 

He shoved off the wall and snatched a couple of the pantry's canvas tote bags off the shelf around the corner, catching on pretty much immediately. "I was thinkin' one of us would have to stay," he said. 

"Now we don't," Carol agreed. They scooped guns and ammo into their bags, and Carol glanced at Olivia. "Come here. Now!" 

Shane turned and put a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder. "Barricade the door behind us when we leave, you hear me? They can't get in here, or it just gets worse out there. Know how to shoot a gun?" 

Olivia shook her head, eyes wide, and Shane heard Carol's scoff. Now wasn't the time, even if he did agree with her on principle. He checked the magazine and handed one to her, butt first. "Hands here. Stand right where you are," he instructed. "Finger here. Aim at the doors, and if one of them tries to come through, you squeeze." 

"And you don't stop until they're on the ground," Carol added firmly. 

Olivia's eyes were huge and her pupils were pinpricks, but she nodded and raised the gun. Shane and Carol pulled the sliding doors shut behind them and headed back out, Carol adjusting the bandana to hide her face. 

"Think you just blew your cover," Shane said dryly. "Ace will be happy to have the real Carol back." 

Carol scoffed again- she was good at it, Shane thought dryly- her eyes busy as they came onto the street. "She's so terrified she won't remember anything. I'll be back to harmless and she won't notice a blip." 

Shane sighed and rolled his eyes as they started back up the road. 

Morgan had saved the preacher, Shane saw sourly. Man had told Deanna that he and his were 'evil'. Way Shane saw it, and Rick too, evil was just an excuse people made up to tell themselves they were doing the right thing. 

Morgan had also, Shane thought with confusion and irritation, chosen to take a prisoner. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew Morgan was right, to a certain extent. Once upon a time, he'd sworn to uphold the law, and apprehending was the name of the game. Lethal was a last resort, right? 

But this was it. Humanity was at its last resort. Especially right now, with these assholes who'd snuck over their walls with nothing on their minds but death and pillage. 

Carol muttered under her breath and shot the prisoner in the middle of his carved 'W', while he was mid-sentence. Gabriel and Morgan jumped and whirled, and Shane scanned around them as Carol wordlessly handed them both guns. 

Shane wondered how many of their own people had died while Morgan was dicking around tying that bastard up. 

"We need to split up," Carol said urgently. "Find everyone we can, get them guns. No more going unarmed, even in the walls." 

"No shit," Shane grunted. A figured walked up out of the smoke from the molotov cocktails, and Shane snapped his gun up before he recognized Maggie. 

"Carol? Shane?" she called. 

"Maggie!" Shane waved the gun in her direction, pulling another from the bag over his shoulder, and Maggie jogged toward them. 

"Armory?" she asked. 

"Secure. We're splitting up. Get to as many of ours as possible. These guys don't give a fuck, Greene. You shoot to kill," Shane ordered. 

She shot him a look as Carol tapped his shoulder and headed up the street. "I told you already, it's Rhee."

Shane grinned. "Let's go then, Rhee. Got work to do." 

He ran into Rosita and Aaron. Rosita smiled when he held out the bag of guns, and it was a predatory smile. Shane understood that. 

Two houses down, four of the bastards came at him in a rush. Shane lived; they didn't. Same happened with the one he found hacking the arms off one of Merle and Abraham's construction crew, and Shane's jaw ached he was clenching it so damn hard. He thought about toying with that one, letting him hurt a little before he killed him, but he remembered how well that had gone with Malcolm fucking Hall and dropped him with a shot to the back of his head instead. 

Gunfire echoed through Alexandria, and Shane stepped over the body and kept moving.

When the gunfire stopped, there'd be more work to do. There were bodies in the streets; there was blood and gore everywhere. Broken glass, scattered belongings. The wall would need to be checked. 

Shane let his mind wander all those upcoming tasks as he made his way back toward home, back toward Rick's. He needed to make sure Carl and Judy were ok, then he'd get started on all of it. Probably all of it at once. Damn, he was already tired. 

He noted that the guns had all but stopped now, and he hadn't seen anyone since the woman who'd come out of nowhere and tackled him with form that Shane's quarterback heart thoroughly appreciated, even in the middle of fighting for his life. He was definitely going to need new stitches. Ace was going to bitch. 

There was a body across the street that hadn't been there when he and Carol left. 

Shane pushed it over with his foot, saw the head shot, and scanned the area to be sure it was clear. Then he stopped to listen; to count shots. When silence greeted him, he shoved his Glock through his belt and took the steps two at a time. 

"Carl!" he yelled as he approached the door from the side. "It's Shane. I'm coming in." 

"Is it over?" Carl's voice sounded distant, even though he was right there in the kitchen when Shane cautiously opened the door and stepped inside. "The shooting stopped." 

"Yeah, I think it is," Shane agreed. "Everything ok here?" 

The buzzing timer made both of them jump, Shane automatically going for his gun. Carl laid down the paper in his hand, calmly turned the timer off, and pulled on oven mitts. 

"All good. Enid was here, but she left again." Carl pulled Carol's casserole out of the oven and set it on the counter. "Judy didn't wake up. She's still asleep. Uncle Shane, there was something." 

"Guy across the street?" Shane guessed, turning the monitor to see his daughter for himself. "Why'd you let Enid leave? It's still going to be nuts out there for awhile. You should stay inside." 

"I didn't let her. She went. She didn't mention it to me," Carl muttered, sounding irritated. 

Shane shot him a look and sniffed at Carol's casserole. Damn, the woman was a wizard. "Fine, kid. What happened with the dead bastard? You ok?" 

Carl nodded. "I had to do it. He was chasing Ron, so I shot him from the doorway. Dad stashed the rifle here, after-" 

Shane had already seen it leaning against the counter and was going to have words with Rick Grimes about paranoia and telling people where the weapons were hidden when he came back, but under the circumstances, Shane could only be so mad. "I noticed. Good shot." 

"I got him in the leg. He was begging, and I'd have let him live, but then he lunged at me. Tried to get the rifle away, and I shot him in the struggle."

Shane studied Carl as he leaned on the counter. The kid didn't seem particularly upset about killing the guy, so Shane wondered what was bothering him. "Hey, you did good. Where's Ron? He stay here?" 

"No, he wouldn't. He's pissed at the world. At dad, at me. It's- he's going to do something stupid if we don't teach him how to not be," Carl said seriously. 

Shane wondered when the kid had gotten so damn smart, and made a note to go check on Jessie and her boys next. "We'll work on it. Don't push him."

"Yeah. It's not shooting the guy. He was trying to kill us. It's that I would have left him alive if he hadn't grabbed me. I'd have tried to save him," Carl said slowly. "I can't decide if that means this place is making me weak or not." 

Shane sighed and shoved off the counter. He set his hands on Carl's shoulders and waited until the kid looked him in the eyes. "Compassion isn't weakness. There's somewhere between a killer and a sheep, and that's where you are. That's the best place to be, kid. I gotta get back out there. Bodies are going to start turning. Stay here and watch your sister, ok? Be back soon." 

Carl nodded and Shane hugged him before heading to the door. He paused and shot a stern look over his shoulder. "And save some of that casserole for me!" 

Carl's laugh sounded good in his ears as he went back into the chaos. 

"Uncle Shane?" 

Carl's whisper had Shane sitting up, heart pounding, and looking around groggily. He'd fallen asleep. Shit. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on the kid, and he'd put in a movie for him and apparently passed right out. 

Shitty babysitter, he thought. Like he'd been a shitty partner. Lori wouldn't need him here if he hadn't let Rick get shot and end up in a coma in the hospital. 

"What's up, little man? How long was I asleep? You ok?" he asked, rubbing his eyes and shoving his hands through his hair as he attempted to wake the fuck up all the way. 

Carl nodded easily. "You were asleep for most of the movie, but it's ok. I'm hungry, though, and Mom says I'm not supposed to get snacks without permission." 

"Your mom's a smart woman," Shane said, reaching over and ruffling the kid's hair. "She makes me ask for permission when I'm here too." 

Carl giggled, like Shane had known he would, and Shane pushed to his feet and headed into the kitchen. "If you have to ask too, how are we going to eat?" 

"'How are we going to eat?'" Shane repeated with a laugh. "Kid. You forget, there's an override. See, if I'm the only adult here, then your mom doesn't know, does she? And what she doesn't know won't hurt her." He winked at Carl as he opened the fridge and squinted at the contents. "Pizza and beer sound good to you?" 

"Uncle Shane!" 

"What?" he asked innocently. 

Carl laughed again, and Shane felt some of the exhaustion from the last month lifting. He'd pulled the night shift the past week, and had another shift tonight with Leon Basset. Kid was an idiot, and was going to get him killed if Shane didn't figure out how to make him a better cop. 

But that was tonight's problem, he thought, shoving it to the back of his mind as Carl informed him he was too young for beer. Today, he was hanging with his partner's kid, and Shane's only goal was to keep Carl laughing. 

He hauled bodies until he realized the blood dripping down his arm was fresh. He sighed and tossed the most recent corpse into the wheelbarrow, full of the Wolves who had invaded. 

Morgan had encountered them before, and that's what they called themselves- the Wolves. His lip curled as he stared down at the W on the asshole's forehead and considered stabbing him between the eyes again, just for kicks. 

But he really needed to get himself patched up so Ace wouldn't have to do it. And so he didn't accidentally bleed out while trying to fix this place. "Hey, Rosita." 

She paused when he grabbed her arm, and he grimaced. "I've popped some stitches. Got a minute?" 

"Damn it, Shane," Rosita snapped, hands on her hips. "Why didn't you say so? Why are you hauling bodies?" 

"Because he's a man," Carol said dryly from his other side. "Go patch him up before he passes out. Then Shane can take over guard duty, so he'll feel involved but not kill himself." 

The two women shared a laugh and Shane shoved a hand through his hair with a scowl. "Look here, you two-" 

"Come on, you know they're right," Maggie chimed in. 

Shane turned his glare to her and she smiled back. Shane knew when he was beaten, and when Rosita grabbed his sleeve and hauled him toward the infirmary he went without protest.

He put up with the stitches, the hovering, and the lecture from Tara and Denise, the new doctor. Shane had some concerns, since he'd met her before and knew she had a degree in psychology and had been going to medical school when the world ended. She wasn't truly a doctor, but shit. Shane figured they'd made do with worse. 

Hell, they'd made do with Merle and Daryl and Ace's version of first aid, and while Shane loved his Slugger, skilled medical professional she was not. None of them were. 

And honestly, he'd trust Denise before he'd have let Pete the abusive drunk near him. 

He also accepted being firmly and pointedly ordered up to the wall, to keep watch while cleanup continued. Their people would be coming back soon, if things had gone to plan. Most of them, anyway, Shane thought. Sasha, Abraham, Daryl, and damn her fucking stubborn streak, Ace wouldn't be back for hours. Twenty miles was a long way at the pace of the shambling undead, he thought with a grimace. 

And that was if things had gone right. With that damn horn, and all the gun play- 

Well, he had a feeling things were worse out there than he wanted to think about. He wished he had a fucking radio, but they'd all had to go to their people out there. Thank god, he thought, they'd all left fully prepped for that dry run. Thank God Rick was such a Boy Scout. 

He shoved a hand through his hair and turned to survey the road, letting out the stressed breath he'd been holding and deliberately forcing himself to think about something other than Ace, and Rick, and fucking Merle. When had he started worrying about Merle Dixon's health and safety? 

He thought it might have been when Merle started coughing in the prison and Ace had grabbed his hand so hard she'd left circles on his palm from her nails. 

Inside, Maggie and Deanna stood close together, talking quietly. Deanna had that shell-shocked look on her face that Shane saw on a lot of bystanders and victims before the world ended, and he winced. They were going to need her, and with the way the hits had kept rolling for that woman- first her son, then her husband, now this- he had a feeling she wasn't going to be able to handle it. He hoped he was wrong, but he'd seen stronger people crumble under less. 

And weaker people stand up under more, he thought as Carol calmly knifed a walker than had one of the Alexandrians screaming. Carol spoke soothingly to the woman, who seemed to settle immediately, and Shane turned back to the world outside. They had things covered within. 

Now if they could just know what was going on without. He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair again as his thoughts circled back to Rick and Ace and everyone else. Damn it. 

He needed a haircut. Maybe he'd shave it all off again. Ace had liked it short. 

Movement caught his eye at the edge of the trees and he snapped the rifle to his shoulder, panning with the scope to get a better look. 

"Holy shit," he muttered. He lowered the rifle and whistled, and Carol and Maggie's heads shot up and whipped toward him. 

Those Dixons and their hunting calls, he thought fondly, had done them all of them a favor over that horrible winter. Their group had them so ingrained Shane figured they'd respond to those whistles in their sleep. 

Hell, they had a few times. 

"Get the gate open. We got people coming in," he called, and turned back to get a better look at who all was coming up. 

He found them in the scope and felt the blood drain from his face. There were four of them, and Scott was leaning on Heath and limping like every step was agony. Michonne had her sword in hand and her eyes tracking back and forth warily, and Merle was covered in blood with the set and carefully blank expression he'd gotten when things had particularly gone to shit while they'd spent time searching for the Governor together. 

And that was it. No one else had come from the trees, and Shane's heart started to pound as they came on the road and Merle whistled another of those signs. Shane whistled back, and Merle's shoulders relaxed and he sheathed his blade and offered his shoulder to Scott as well. 

The gate slid open, and Shane lowered the rifle and started down the ladder. He'd been right. 

Something had gone horribly wrong out there.


	55. Lie #55: "If He's Not, I'm Going to Kill You." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
mentions of child death- brief

"Darrie, what the hell is that damn horn?" you asked, your fingers digging into his arm. 

He shot you a look as he grabbed for the radio clipped to his shoulder. "How the fuck should I know? Let go of my arm before ya fuckin' draw blood. Rick!" 

The radio crackled. "I'm here." 

"What's goin' on back there?" 

"Half of them broke off," Rick said grimly. "They're going toward Alexandria." 

Your breath caught. Jesus. Oh, fucking hell, no. Shane. Judy. Carl. If that herd hit the walls- 

You could see the herd sweeping the farm, the camp in Atlanta, the walkers piled deep enough on the prison fences to bring them down if you didn't have every available person on fence patrol. And Shane was there with so few of your people, the ones who knew what they were doing. Fuck. 

"Towards you?" Abraham asked into his walkie. 

"We ran ahead. There's a horn or something, loud, coming from the east. It's not stopping." 

"Darrie," you whispered. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm gonna gas it up, turn back."

Rick sounded out of breath. "We have it. You keep going." 

Daryl batted at your hand, but you got the radio from him anyway. He couldn't fight harder without stopping or losing his balance and he shot you a disgusted glare when you took it from him. "Rick, they're going to need our help!" 

"Gotta keep the herd moving, Ace." 

"Not if it's goin' down we don't," Daryl yelled when you clicked the button to respond. You weren't even mad because that was basically what you were going to say anyway.

"If the rest of that herd turns around, the bad back there gets worse," Rick insisted. 

Ok, that was fair. It was. But the bad was already back there, and so was your whole goddamn family, and- 

"Daryl? Ace?" 

Daryl took the radio back. "Yeah, we heard you." 

You fidgeted. You kept twisting around to look behind you, and coppery tang of blood lingered on your tongue because you couldn't stop picking at your thumbnail. Shane was going to bitch at you about it, damn it. 

Shane. You had to get home. Sasha and Abraham could lead the herd, right? They had the car, the walkers were already on the move. It wasn't like this part of the job was hard. Just time consuming, at the creeping walker-speed you were going. 

"Darrie," you said finally. 

He patted your hand on his arm, gentle this time. "I know that tone. Ya got the same damn idea I do, don't ya?"

"We need to go home. They can take them the rest of the way." 

He eased the bike closer to the car and Abraham shot you a look like he knew what you were about to say even as you leaned toward him to ask. "Hey. We gone five miles out yet?" 

"Give or take some yardage. You got a reason for asking?"

"Next intersection, we're gonna spin around and go back," Daryl said. 

You frowned at the back of his head. That hadn't exactly been what you were thinking, but you wanted to get home, damn it, so who were you to argue?

"The plan was to go fifteen more!" Sasha protested. 

Daryl shrugged. "Yeah, I'm gonna change that. Five'll have to work." 

"Go, Darrie," you cheered him on. "Look, guys, we have to get back. Something's happening. They wouldn't risk noise like that."

"The magic number's twenty. That's the mission. That's making sure they're off munching on infirm raccoons the rest of their undead lives instead of any of us," Abraham said. 

You did appreciate the man's colorful turn of phrase, but you shook your head. "Fine. You guys stay, lead them on. Daryl and I will go." 

"You want to leave, we can't stop you. But without you, they could stop us." Sasha looked you both in the eyes, and for a minute you could feel Daryl wavering. 

The sign for Alexandria caught your eye- 'the start of sustainability'. The sign was weathered and half on its side and starting to fall apart, much like the whole goddamn world, but it pointed toward home. And you had to go. You had to. 

"Naw," Daryl said slowly. "I got faith in ya. Hold on, sis." 

"Daryl! Ace!" 

You wrapped your arms around Daryl and leaned into his back as he revved the bike. "Damn straight. Open this bitch up." 

The radio crackled and you grabbed it. With the bike flying now, Daryl really should keep both hands steady. 

"Daryl?" 

"We're here," you answered. 

"Won't be long now. They're almost here. I'll get them going your way again," Rick said. 

You leaned your forehead against Daryl's shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief. 

"How about that, Daryl? Ace? He's gonna be coming our way," Sasha said pointedly. 

"Bitch," you muttered. You didn't press the button on the walkie, speaking only to your brother. "Even with the walkers being lead away, something still happened at home. We need to get back." 

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, but he sounded torn. "Yeah." 

Rick's voice came again and stole every bit of oxygen from your lungs. "There's gunfire coming back home. We gotta sit with it, hope they can handle it. I think they can."

You heard the tone in his voice and wanted to scream. Don't give me that stubborn-bastard speechmaking, Rick Grimes, you thought wildly. There's gunfire coming from home. Our people aren't reckless. Shit is going down in a major way.

"They have to handle it," Rick continued in that same voice. "I trust Shane, and Carol and Rosita and Tara. Michonne and Merle and Glenn are on their way home. We keep going forward for them. Can't turn back cause we're afraid." 

You clicked the radio, heard the way you sounded. You didn't care. "Goddamn it, Rick, my whole world's back there." 

"So we have to do our part to keep it safe. This is for them. Going back now before it's done? That'd be for us." 

You shook your head, angry at the tears that slid out. Shane was back there, and he was hurt. Judy and Carl, Carol, and your idiot brother was heading there, ahead of a herd of walkers. You had to go back. Had to. 

"You know, I'm beginning to understand why Shane hates that tone as much as he loves it," you said to no one in particular. "Fucking hell." 

"The herd has to be almost here," Rick added. 

You hooked the radio back on Daryl's shoulder, not knowing what else to say. Rick might have a point- ok, Rick did have a point- but so did you. Maybe it was for you. Maybe it was selfish, this need to go back and make sure your Dickhead was ok. 

But you could be fucking selfish, then. 

The radio crackled again and you waited for Rick's voice, but what you got was gunfire. 

Daryl slammed on the breaks as you yelled into the radio. "Rick? Rick!" 

Silence and static was the only answer you got, and you looked at your brother's panicked eyes and knew you probably looked about the same. 

"Can we go now?" you asked after you'd tried the fourth time to reach him and gotten only silence. 

Daryl hesitated, staring forward, toward home. "Yeah," he said finally. "Let's go." 

You grabbed at him again, and he whipped the bike around and opened the throttle, heading back the way you'd come. Back toward the herd. 

"Damn you, Daryl! This is not what I meant! We need to go home!" you screamed it in his ear, pissed beyond belief. 

He nodded. "Stop blowin' my eardrums. I know. Aight? I know. But we gotta get this shit done first. Rick's right, sis, it's important. They can handle it." 

"Daryl. Darrie. I lost him once, because I wasn't there." 

Daryl slowed the bike to a less death-defying speed and grabbed your hand, clamped white-knuckled around his waist. "I know. I lost ya at the same time. Merle too. Thing is, though, if these bastards get back home, it don't matter what's happening back there, cause it'll take 'em down no matter what. Ya know that. Shane's a tough bastard, Ace. He'll be aight." 

"If he's not, I'm going to kill you," you muttered, knowing even as you said it you didn't mean it. 

"Fair enough," Daryl agreed. "It's the right choice, sis." 

"Yeah," you said heavily. "I know. The right choice sucks." 

Daryl snorted. "No shit." 

You were smoking a cigarette and staring at the Lullaby's label when tires sounded on the gravel. It had been slow as fuck all night, and you and Jason were both dancing around the subject of who was going to bounce early. 

Usually you were up for staying- you loved this place, and you'd be up anyway even if you went home- but your back still ached and you had a commission to do tomorrow. You were going to tell Jason you wanted to leave tonight. He owed you. He'd pout, but he'd be fine with it. 

"Slugger." 

You blinked and looked away from the mural, frowning in concern. You hadn't heard from Dickhead in a couple weeks, and he hadn't texted to see if you were working. "What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"That's a warm welcome," Shane said dryly. He shoved a hand through his hair and shrugged. "Got Jack?" 

"Oh, shit," you mumbled. "How bad?" 

"You can skip the Coke."

Oh, that wasn't good. You crushed out your cigarette without a word and walked over to him. He wasn't meeting your eyes, you noticed. It had been a bad one. Someone was dead, you were guessing, and there was a real high percentage chance he'd made them that way. He might tell you about it; he might not, you knew. Either way, you knew what Dickhead needed, and it wasn't a drink. 

Well, wasn't just a drink. You kissed his cheek and wrapped your arms around him, and he stayed stiff and still in your arms long enough you were really starting to worry. Then all the air went out of him as hugged you back, his cheek on your head. You still didn't speak, and he held on, his hand going into a fist against your back after a minute. 

"Jesus, Slugger," he mumbled finally. "Thanks. I needed that." 

"I know," you said with fake cheer as you stepped away. He looked better already, you decided critically. He was meeting your eyes, at least. "It's dead as shit in there. I was planning on guilting Jase into letting me leave early. Want to drink here or at my place?" 

Shane sighed. "I've gotta get back home tonight. Probably shouldn't have even bothered, but I couldn't settle." 

Yeah, he wasn't going home tonight. He'd crash on your couch- or more likely, with how bad he looked, in your bed. But you'd leave that problem for in a couple of hours, when you'd closed down the bar and he was forced to admit he was too tired and too drunk to drive. "If you say so. Meet me inside then. Jason will be happy," you added with an eye roll. "And probably make some inappropriate comments." 

That got a slight smile, like you'd known it would. "Shit. We can give him something to make comments on, if you want." 

Your chest ached, cause that was the right comment, but his heart clearly wasn't in it and the words fell totally flat. "Hey, Dickhead. What the hell happened?" 

He shoved a hand through his hair and shook his head, letting out a long sigh. "Made a choice, Slugger. And it wasn't the right one." 

"What does Rick say?" you asked. You highly doubted it had been wrong, but you also knew Shane would trust his partner before he trusted his own judgement. Shane thought the man walked on water, after all. 

He half-laughed, grim and harsh, and shook his head. "Rick ain't right this time. It was a choice, sure, and it could have been either site, but it wasn't. It wasn't, and we found a body, Slugger, not a kid. And I made the call on where to go first. He ain't right." 

"Shane-" you started, reaching for him again as your heart twisted, both for the child and for your friend.

"Don't. Don't, sweetheart. I appreciate it, but I know I screwed up. Just- man, I need a drink," he finished, stepping away from you. 

You bit your lip, but didn't push. "Good thing you know the bartender, then, huh? Come on. I'll make it a double. On the house tonight, Officer." 

You yelled some more, of course. Daryl ignored you patiently until you poked him in the side- and hard, too- in a brief moment of reversion to being nine. He didn't ignore that, and you got an earful back at Dixon volume until Sasha and Abraham cruised the car up beside you again and asked if everything was alright. 

Daryl gave you another cigarette after that and told you not to be such a bitch about things. You stuck your tongue out at the back of his head and told him not to be an asshole. You know, a loving sibling interaction. 

You settled down after the cigarette though. "Darrie?"

"What now?" 

You leaned your chin on his shoulder and sighed. "I'm worried, and I'm scared. That's all. You're right and I know it." 

"'Course I'm right. Course ya scared. I'm worried, too. It's aight, sis. Pig's tough shit." 

"Oh god, not you too," you groaned. "He has a name, damn it."

He laughed. "Gotta keep him humble. Besides, got good news." 

"Hmmm?" 

He nodded toward a mile marker. "Pretty sure that's our mark."

You straightened up immediately and grabbed the walkie from Daryl's shoulder. "Sasha." 

"Yeah, I know. We need some distance between us and them before the turn off for 642." 

Abraham's voice spoke over hers. "So floor it." 

You turned in the seat and flipped him off as Daryl took the radio from you. "Try to keep up, then." 

"Daryl, have you looked at this car? That's nice, Ace, he's flipping you off back. Believe me, we want to get back there too." 

You grinned, waved cheerfully, and turned around to hold on tight to your brother. Highway 642 appeared on your left, and you took one last look at the horde you'd been escorting as Daryl leaned into the curve. "So long, bitches," you muttered. 

Daryl laughed. He'd never admit to it, but you felt it.

You'd settled into the knowledge that you were only going to hit about sixty on the return trip because of Sasha and Abraham's junker. That was better, you reminded yourself, that the slow crawl to get out there, and it was only twenty miles home. It shouldn't take more than a couple hours. Maybe less if Daryl had paid attention to short cuts and alternate routes. 

This wasn't your part of the plan, so honestly, you hadn't. 

You were surprised by the lack of walkers so far, and you kept a close eye on the scenery as you went. Houses stood with broken windows and open doors, and you remembered Shane talking about something he called 'broken window theory' one night at the bar. 

"Break a window, see, and don't fix it? Society collapses," had been the gist. You'd been skeptical then, and you were skeptical now, but he'd leaned toward you across the bar on a dead Thursday night, three sheets to the wind from one of your cocktail recipes you were working on for Ellie and destined for a night on your couch, and you hadn't been able to stop smiling the whole time he was talking. 

God, you needed to get home. 

Gunshots shattered glass and you ducked as Daryl swerved. "What the-" 

People stepped out of nowhere, on either side of the road, and holy fuck that was a lot of gunfire. You clung to Daryl's back when he shouted "hold on!" but the shots rained around you and you knew neither of you were lucky enough to avoid it for long. 

"Shit!" he half-yelled, and you felt the moment he didn't have control anymore. 

This was going to hurt, you thought, and loosened your grip on him. Best way to go would be to not get all tangled up in each other, and- 

You'd been right. It hurt.


	56. Lie #56: "You Have My Undivided Attention, Baby Doll." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon typical violence  
references to domestic violence/abuse

He rubbed a hand over his eyes and resisted the urge to curse like a Dixon. Merle had just done enough of that, Shane decided, as he recounted what the hell had happened out there. 

"Damn truck fell right off the fuckin' ledge, an' the whole group of those rotten bitin' bastards was headed toward home. Had to do the thing right then, and ya better half got everyone movin'. Couple of 'em spooked, Ace got tied up dealin' with Carter-" 

Shane's eyes narrowed and Michonne interjected. "He's dead, and not because he was talking to your girl. Relax." 

Shane had not relaxed. Shane didn't think he was going to relax again, maybe ever. 

"Anyway, she done decided to hitch a ride with Darlyina. That's aight with Merle, 'specially with what went down after. Glenn, Nicolas, and Heath, they hit that tractor place, got them walkers taken out, and rejoined those of us on parade duty. Everythin' was goin' fine till Carter got himself bit, but we handled that dumbassery too. Then that there horn went off and we were all fuckin' runnin', trying to stay ahead of 'em. I'd wandered over to Rick's side for a little check-in, left the walkie with Tobin, an' had to haul ass with these guys." 

Shane looked at them. "Rick? Glenn?" 

"Ya wife is leadin' the rest of the herd back to the road with the RV," Merle said lightly. Then his eyes slid to Maggie and his face twisted. "Little sister, I tried to go. He wouldn't let me." 

"What does that mean?" Maggie asked, her face shutting down into tight wariness. Shane set a hand on her back and she didn't look away from Merle. 

He gestured vaguely with his missing hand. "Glenn, he- he done got this idea to set a fire; draw 'em away. We was trapped, herd comin' up one side, and fuckload of 'em in the town we was in. Annie's ankle was bad, Scott had taken a round to the leg, David was bit. We weren't lookin' so great. Glenn wanted to pull them away from us and from here, till Rick could lead 'em back. He took Nicolas with him, see, and- Well, the fire never got lit." 

Tara reached for Maggie as Shane's eyes closed. "Goddamn it," he whispered, giving up on not cussing. 

"We had to keep going, Maggie. I'm sorry," Michonne said softly. "He said if he got stuck, he'd find a way to give us a signal." 

"Maggie, ya know I did everythin' I damn well could to get him back to ya once. I'll head back out there soon's I make sure none of this blood is mine and I grab some water. I'll find him," Merle said firmly. 

"No," Maggie whispered. "No, you can't, we-" 

"Open the gate!" 

Shane's head whipped up. He knew that voice, faint as it was, and he took off for the gate and started more of the cussing when he looked. 

Rick fucking Grimes was hauling ass toward them, on foot, followed steps behind by a sea of the dead. He dodged outstretched hands from the side, screaming "open the gate" again, and Shane aimed between the bars to drop the walker right on his brother's ass. 

Merle hauled the gate open, Shane ran out and shot another dead fucker as Rick slipped and hit one knee, and Shane grabbed his elbow and hauled him back to his feet. The flung themselves back through the gate as Merle and Michonne slammed it closed and the sea of undead crashed against it. Snarling faces pressed against the bars and hands reached through, but Michonne pulled the inner gate across to block them from view. 

Rick leaned against Shane, panting and dripping sweat and gasping for breath, and Shane shoved a hand through his hair as he thumped Rick on the back supportively. 

Yeah, he was definitely shaving it off again. 

"So," he said slowly. 

"Yeah," Rick managed. 

"What the hell happened?" Rick asked, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

He looked exhausted, Shane thought critically. The shower had helped, but shit. Rick still looked like death warmed over. Shane studied the slice on Rick's outstretched palm and tried to decide if Rick would sit still long enough for Shane to stitch it. 

"Wolves came in. Killed some of us. We killed more of them," Shane said with a shrug. "Carl, grab the first aid kit, would you? Your dad needs to be patched up." 

"Did you get patched up?" Carl retorted, but he did as he was asked. 

Rick raised an eyebrow at him and Shane jerked his shoulder in dismissal. "Popped some stitches. I'm fine." 

"Ace is gonna kill you," Rick muttered. "Come on, man, my hand's fine. Just needs to be wrapped up, and we gotta get back out there." 

"Sit your ass there and take it like a man," Shane said mildly. "Thanks, kid." 

"That's sexist, Uncle Shane," Carl informed him as he ripped open a suture kit and dumped antiseptic on Rick's palm. 

"Naw," Shane disagreed. "It's not. If it was Ace, I'd tell her to take it like a woman. I'm just sayin', don't be a baby about it. It's ageist, if it's anything."

"Thin. That's very thin," Rick said, then hissed. "Damn it, Shane!" 

"Don't move then." Shane set the next stitch and glanced up when Judy babbled something from Carl's arms. "That's right, baby girl. Your daddy is a dumbass. Want to tell me what the hell you were doing running from a herd of walkers alone and on foot? Michonne and the lump said you were leading them away in the RV."

Rick sighed and twitched again as Shane finished off the stitches. "Yeah, well. I was. Then some of your Wolves tried to kill me and I had to shoot through the RV to kill them first." 

"Dale would be pissed at you," Shane said dryly. He started wrapping Rick's hand, frowning as he pondered the current situation. "People are gonna panic." 

"Yeah, they are," Rick agreed. "We need to reinforce that wall, where the truck hit. Who took that out, by the way?" 

"Spencer. Look, Deanna's fucked up six ways from Sunday, too, and we got to talk about Glenn. We just leaving him out there? And why the hell did you let my girl jump on Daryl's bike?" Shane demanded. 

"No one lets Ace do anything; she does what she wants." Rick rolled his eyes and flexed his hand, shoving to his feet and kissing Judith's forehead. 

"Course she does," Shane agreed lazily. "Which is why you have to make her want to do what you want her to do." 

Carl shook his head at him over Rick's shoulder. "Uncle Shane, please." 

"I ain't wrong, kid. That's the key to it all. Your dad's a master at making people want to do what he wants them to do. That stubborn bastard look? It's all calculated, my friend." 

"Uncle Shane, please," Rick echoed Carl, a pained look in his eyes. 

There was a group gathered at the walls, restless Alexandrians standing and staring and listening. Shane was just wrapping up a detailed explanation to Rick of where the Wolves had come over, how (from what he'd put together and what Carl had seen), and just what the fuck they needed to do to make that not a thing that ever happened again when they both saw it. 

Shane sighed. "I need a haircut, man." 

"That really what's important now, 22?" Rick muttered dryly. 

"I mean, might as well be, right? What are we gonna do about that?" He nodded in the direction of the huddled group, and once again thanked his lucky stars that Rick Grimes had come back from the dead. 

Rick glanced at him once as his expression set into the stubborn bastard look Shane knew and loved. "Got my back?" 

"Always, brother." 

"Yeah. I know," Rick agreed, and slapped him on the shoulder once. Without breaking stride, Rick headed into the middle of the knot of onlookers, and Shane followed him. Right into trouble, just like always, he thought. 

"You can hear it. Some of you saw it. They got back here, half of them." Rick dropped into his speech like a stone into the middle of a pond, and Shane idly wondered if Rick planned these things before he opened his mouth, or if it was all just on-the-fly Rick fucking Grimes. 

"There's still enough to surround us, twenty deep. I know you're scared. You haven't seen anything like this. Haven't been through anything like this. We have," Rick continued with a nod Shane's way. 

Shane shrugged. "Well, close enough anyway," he said. 

"Not helping," Rick muttered. 

"Sorry, brother, you forgot to give me your speech notes so I could study up," Shane shot back as Merle and Maggie walked up together. 

People were scared, Shane saw. And hell, he couldn't even blame them. They hadn't been through shit and back like their people had. They hadn't been through safe haven after safe haven collapsing, through the running and the fighting and the starving. They'd just been here, living. 

And now in the space of one day, they'd had invaders slaughtering people within their walls, friends that they'd had since the place was established, and they had a walker herd surrounding them? Shit. Shane was surprised they weren't panicking harder, if he was honest. 

Jessie had blood stains on her hands, he saw. She'd beaten the shit out of a Wolf who'd come into her house, and she'd hauled the body of the woman out as Shane walked up to check on her. Shane had held her eyes, asked if her boys were alright, and nodded once. 

She'd nodded back, and Shane thought about Ace snatching his Glock from his belt and dropping walkers with headshots. He'd thought about Carol taking Daryl's ax and smashing Ed's head in while sobbing, about Carol and Ace coming out of the trees at Terminus covered in walker guts and smoke and blood. 

Yeah, that was the thing about survivors, he thought now. They were either victims, or they were some of the strongest people ever put on the planet. Jessie seemed to have decided she was strong, and Shane was glad. 

"The panel the truck hit seems intact. We're safe, for now," Rick went on. "We'll reinforce it, just in case. Either way, the wall's gonna hold together. Can you?" 

Shane snorted. "Dramatic son of a bitch. Listen, Daryl and Ace, Sasha and Abraham- they have vehicles. They'll be back soon, and they'll lead the rest of these bastards away like they are the other half." 

"Damn straight. And Glenn and Nicolas'll come wanderin' through that there gate right after, wonderin' why we're sittin' on our lazy asses while they did all the work," Merle called, his hand on Maggie's shoulder. 

Maggie shook her head and smiled fondly up at Merle, and there was another thing Shane had never imagined he'd see. Merle, Tara, Glenn and Maggie had formed a tight-knit little unit, and Shane still barely believed it. "They will," she agreed. 

"They will. And we'll do what we need to do." Rick's gesture took in the whole group, but his eyes lingered on Maggie and Shane knew guilt when he saw it on his partner's face. 

He stepped up, gripping Rick's shoulder before turning in a slow circle to meet as many eyes as possible. "We survived the Wolves. We'll survive this," he promised them. "Keep the noise down, keep the blinds closed at night." 

"Even better, keep the lights out," Rick agreed. "Try to keep this place as quiet as a graveyard." 

"This place is a graveyard," Francine said. 

Shane honestly had no idea when she and Tobin and the rest of the second group had gotten back, so it must have been while he was getting his shoulder sewn together again, but he turned to her and frowned. 

Merle groaned dramatically. "Come on now, sugar britches, don't give us that. You're tough shit. Ya can handle this, now. Just livin' quiet for a bit is all." 

"Like you know anything about living quiet," Shane said dryly. Merle grinned at him as Francine looked down, faint color on her cheeks, and Shane glanced at Rick. 

"The quarry broke open and those walkers were heading this way. All of them." Aaron stepped out of the crowd and everyone turned to him. "The plan that Rick put into place stopped that from happening. They got half of them away. And Shane, and Carol, and Rosita and Tara and Maggie and Carl-" 

Shane shifted as Aaron pointed to each of their people as he named them. He hadn't realized how many of them were gathered. Since Rick had started this intervention- Shane couldn’t even dub this one a motivational speech, cause shit, so far it wasn't- they'd gathered more. 

"They kept this place safe. Those people got back here because of me," Aaron said. "I was recruiting with Daryl and wanted to get into a cannery and scavenge. Daryl wanted to keep looking for people. We did what I wanted, and we wound up in a trap set by those people, and I lost my pack. They must've followed our tracks. Those people who attacked us- they found their way back here because of me." 

Shane had head this story already, and he didn't see how anyone could have followed Daryl Dixon in the woods. He shoved a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Come on, man. Ain't your fault. People were going to come eventually. Rick and I, the rest of us, we've been worried about it all along. People are the real threat now. It just took us by surprise. That won't happen again." 

"No, it will not," Rick agreed. "There will be more to talk about, but-" 

"Deanna?" Tobin called. "Deanna!" 

Shane glanced at Rick as Deanna kept walking away. Well, shit.

Shane was three shots deeper than he should have been and he knew it. One more drink and he'd be shit faced. He was already unsafe to drive, and he would call for a lift if he didn't end up getting lucky tonight. 

He'd been doing some major flirting with the pretty brunette beside him. She had a tank top that fit her like a second skin and showed curves in all the right places, cut off jeans with frayed hems on tan thighs, and mile-high strappy wedge sandals on her feet. Casual sexy, Shane thought. 

He was looking for casual, and maybe casual sexy would clear his head and help him get past this bullshit with Ace. 

He missed his Slugger, damn it. Even if she was being an idiot, staying with Hall. Abusive fucker. Shane wanted to kill him. He still might. 

He took another sip and contemplated cold-blooded murder, and completely missed what Casual Sexy (he'd forgotten her name, damn it) said. "What? Sorry, sorry. Mind wandered away, darlin'." 

"I noticed," she said dryly. "You back now?" 

He ran a hand through his hair and offered her a sheepish grin. "I think so. You have my undivided attention, baby doll." 

"I highly doubt that." But she leaned in closer and drew a hand down his arm seductively, faint smile on her lips as she repeated herself. "I asked if you wanted to dance. You were talking a big game earlier, something about being killer on the dance floor. Bringing women to their knees?" 

Shane laughed as he rose and offered her a hand. "Well, that might have been a slight underestimation, but I don't know. I'm not a dance critic." 

She laughed, as Shane had known she would, and he swept her out onto the floor and pulled her into slow hip circles that matched the hot, sultry beat of the song perfectly. She stumbled and fell into him with another laugh, but she found her rhythm and his soon enough. Shane tried not to think about how effortless dancing with Ace was; how she seemed to know what he was thinking before he did it, as he switched things up and his partner stayed half a beat behind him. 

Point of coming out tonight was to stop thinking about Ace, after all. And the best way Shane could think of to do that was to find a beautiful, interested woman to make some trouble with. Like Casual Sexy here, he told himself firmly. 

He smiled and pulled her closer, and- 

It was just a flash; just a flicker of vibrant blue on the edge of his vision. Shane's head whipped up and toward the door, his breath catching as he searched for the source. 

She stood just inside the doorway, on her toes to kiss the man bending down to her level. She was a tiny thing; petite and small enough Shane thought she would snap in half like a pretzel if the man squeezed her too tightly. Her hair was short, spiked, and electric blue. 

Shane let go of Casual Sexy, rubbing a hand over his eyes and his cheek as he swallowed hard. "Look, darlin', I'm sorry. I've gotta- I've gotta go." 

"Seriously?" she said, her lip curled in a sneer. "What, you get a conscience after all? Decide to go home to your girlfriend?" 

Shane huffed out a laugh, partly amused but mostly not. He didn't blame her for being annoyed; they'd been flirting all night. He just didn't have two fucks to give anymore was all. "No, baby doll. My boyfriend," he shot at her, and headed for the bar. He dropped enough cash for his tab and hers and a solid over-tip to their bartender, pulling his phone as he made his way to the door. 

The blue-haired pixie was tearing up the dance floor with the man she'd met, both of them looking like there was no one else in the world but each other. 

"Hey, Rick? Listen, I'm sorry, brother, really, but I need a favor," Shane said into his phone, heading for his Jeep. He got in the passenger side and closed the door, tilting his head back toward the seat.

"Where are you?" Rick's voice was groggy and tired and Shane felt even more like an asshole. 

"Main. Ain't far. Really sorry, man." 

"Shut up; I'll be there in ten," Rick whispered. "You're coming home with me though." 

Shane thought about going home to his empty house and staring at Ace's number in his phone, and then he thought about Lori's god-awful cooking and Carl's chatter in the morning. "Yeah, that's fine with me. Thanks." 

Shane stood on the wall, staring out into the swarm of the hungry dead and waiting for Ace and Daryl to show up to save the day. One thing he believed in, firmly, after so long with that woman and her brothers- Dixons would always show up to save the day. 

The panel the truck had rammed was being braced. He'd already heard from six people about the dust-up in the pantry, and Shane had to hand it to Spencer for settling everyone down. If the system collapsed now, and people started stripping the shelves and hoarding food for themselves, everything would break down. Alexandria would be dead in a day, from within. 

Which would be a damn shame, since all they had to do was wait a few hours for the others to finish the parade and lead the rest of these bastards away, Shane thought as he looked straight down. One particularly ugly fuck was missing most of his face and had a W carved into his skull. 

Fucking Wolves. Shane shoved a hand through his hair and thought about asking Jessie to shave it all off for him. Maybe he could get a little more information out of her while she was at it, about just where she and Rick stood. Maybe learn some more about how much of a bastard the dead husband was. Offer some advice about the idiot kid who'd asked Rick to teach him how to shoot. 

Shane thought that was a real bad idea, but Rick had already told Ron he would. 

Shane sighed again and turned to scan within the walls, since the picture without was far from lovely. Inside wasn't much better, if he was honest, but it wasn't the shitshow it had been earlier. Graves were being dug. Wolves had all been piled together, to be buried or burned outside the walls. Blood had been cleaned, for the most parts, off the streets. 

Broken windows were being patched, he thought. 

And Maggie and Aaron were going somewhere. 

Shane frowned and pulled up his rifle. He looked through the scope and gave a soft, amused whistle. Aaron crouched in front of a sewer grate and lifted it as Shane watched. He and Maggie argued briefly over something, then Maggie nodded and looked around. She had a pack over her shoulder with flashlights taped to rebar shoved in it, her hair pulled back, and her gun on her hip. 

She was going to look for Glenn. 

Shane thought about stopping her. He thought about yelling "what the fuck do you think you're doing?" He thought about following her. 

He didn't. 

He breathed a sigh of relied when Aaron dropped in after her and pulled the grate closed behind him. If she took someone with her, Shane sure as shit was going to let her get out. She needed to look for Glenn. Shane got it. If he hadn't known Slugger was with Daryl, he'd have been over the damn wall already himself. 

He slung the rifle back over his shoulder, grimaced at the pull from the newly-stitched slice, and added mapping and doing a daily check of the sewer system to his to-do list.

"Why ain't they back yet?" 

Shane, sitting the floor with Judy and a collection of red solo cups that she was happily banging together, looked up and shrugged. "Do I look psychic? They're your siblings." 

Merle scowled and stalked into the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a sigh. Shane leaned against the chair, handing Judy one of her cups when she flailed and knocked it over. Judy smiled at him and Shane smiled back automatically. 

"They're fine," he told Merle firmly.

He believed it. He had to believe it. Sure, he and Rick had both expected the other four to have been back by now. Something had happened out there to delay them, but considering the chaos everywhere else, he wasn't exactly surprised. He was concerned, but all four of them knew how to handle themselves out there. 

Merle scoffed. "Awful calm, pig. Expected ya to be climbing over the fence an' tryin' to learn how to walk on air to get to my sister." 

"Thought about it," Shane admitted. He'd thought about following Maggie and Aaron out. He'd thought about going himself when they came back, Maggie with tears on her cheeks and Aaron with his arm going around her as soon as they were out of the sewer. He'd been thinking about how to get out since then, and some of those thoughts were even in the realm of possible. "Nothing that I know will work, though. I trust my girl. I trust your brother. We've gotten out of tougher spots before. Had less to work with." 

"Damn well-adjusted all the fuckin' sudden," Merle grumbled. "The hell did that happen? Ya went bonkers last time she weren't right at ya side, from what Darylina says." 

Shane remembered. He remembered the fear and the numb rage, the bullet in his pocket and the certainty that he was going to use it. Just a matter of timing. He scooped Judith up when she babbled and reached for him, rubbing noses with her. Merle chuckled as she grabbed a handful of Shane's hair and pulled until Shane winced. 

"You think I need a hair cut too, little girl? Shit. I'm about to do it my damn self," he muttered. "She ain't dead, lump. That's how I'm calm. I'd know. I know what it feels like, now- her being gone. This isn't it. They'll be back." 

"Weren't gone before, ya know." Merle's voice wasn't judging, more curious. 

Shane kissed Judy's fingers as she shoved them insistently into his mouth and spoke around them. "Yeah. I still know." 

Merle grunted again. "I think ya right. What kinda haircut ya want, pig?" 

"You only have one hand," Shane shot back immediately. "Ain't no way in hell you're getting near my head!" 

"I do a damn good job of a lotta things with only one hand. Ask Michonne," Merle fired back, grinning as Shane gagged. "'Sides, I done cut Darylina and Ace's hair whole time they's growin' up." 

"Shit. No wonder Ace likes hers so funky. She had to deal with fucked up haircuts her whole life, she probably just wants to feel like people aren't staring cause its so damn bad." 

"Fuck you, Walsh," Merle said pleasantly. "Get the fuckin' clippers. When the little miss goes down, I'll shave it off for ya." 

Shane grinned and plopped Judy into Merle's lap, heading for the kitchen. "We'll see. Think Carol left soup or some shit in the fridge for dinner." 

"I want to marry that woman an' run off to Jamaica with her," Merle called. 

Shane cracked up as he grabbed a pot and the Tupperware from the fridge. "You even know where the fuck Jamaica is?"


	57. Lie #57: "I Don't Really Remember Anything." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
domestic violence/abuse

"Sis!" 

You were already getting to your feet, half-crouched behind abandoned vehicles to keep at least some cover from the gunfire. A car followed Sasha and Abraham, but there were probably more of them in vehicles and there'd certainly been plenty on foot. 

"I'm fine," you snapped as you grabbed the bike. "Come on."

You hauled the bike upright and Daryl kicked it to life, revving it as you swung on the back and tried not to feel the trickle of blood on your cheek. You could worry about how badly the two of you were hurt later; right now you needed to stay alive. 

Daryl shot out of your semi-hidden place and another vehicle was glued to your ass. 

"Lovely," you mumbled, and remembered you were armed. Daryl was armed. Hell, there was a crossbow on your back. 

You grabbed your gun, twisted around, and fired one-handed toward the car behind you. It was promptly joined by an SUV and you groaned. "Darrie, two of them. Get creative!" 

"Yeah, yeah, hold on!" He veered to the side and onto gravel and you thanked a series of gods that he hadn't wrecked out on that as he swerved around a dumpster. Asphalt was bad enough; if you'd gone down on gravel you'd be picking it out of your skin for the next week.

There were the walkers you'd been wondering about, you thought semi-hysterically as you came around the dumpster and rocketed right into the middle of a group of them. Daryl muttered 'fuck' under his breath and you hunched even closer to his back as he swerved. 

You'd avoided walkers on the bike before, and you leaned away as hands reached for you. You kicked one in the chest and sent it staggering as Darrie weaved through them, and let out a delighted whoop when the driver of the lead car was not as skilled as your brother and crashed into a dumpster.

Your delight was short-lived when the SUV stayed hot on your tail. 

"Gotta get off the road, Dar," you told him as you twisted to fire over your shoulder some more. 

He grunted. "No shit. Gotta get some distance. You hit?" 

"Survive first, first aid later, damn it." 

"Darrie," you said quietly. "We lost them. Come on, we need to stop now."

"Soon. Gotta make sure we're far enough from the road." 

You heard the pain in his voice and started to get pissed. He'd floored it on a straight away to hit a curve ahead of the lead car, then shot up a side path and almost wrecked the damn bike again. He hadn't, and both of you had waited, silent and worried, until the SUV following you had gone by. 

Then you'd crossed to the other side of the road to get lost among the trees and maybe begin circling back to find Sasha and Abraham. You rolled your eyes as he kept going, because you could feel the tremble in his muscles. He was exhausted and in pain and you wanted to know how badly he was hurt. 

Come to think of it, you wanted to know how badly you were hurt too. But Darrie was the one who could work the fucking bike, what with having built it and all, and as the trees turned abruptly into a burned and blasted shell of a forest, you took matters into your own hands. 

"If you don't stop this bike I'm going to puke all down your back," you informed him bluntly. 

As expected, he half-twisted around to shoot you a look of disgust so intense you almost laughed. "Shit, sis." 

"I'll do it. Everything hurts, and if you collapse I can't make this Frankenstein bike of yours go." 

Daryl snorted, but slowed. "Frankenstein was the man, not the monster." 

"Doctor Frankenstein built and abandoned a sentient being made of dead person parts. I'd say they're both monsters. Do you really want to argue literary theory and pop culture right now?" you snapped. "Stop the damn bike, Daryl." 

"Fine!" He was half-walking it by then anyway, and you swung off the back when he bumped into a root and let it fall to the side. 

Both of you collapsed straight onto the ground, and you reached a hand toward him and found him reaching back. "We're alive," you whispered. 

"Yeah," he agreed. 

Snarls sounded and both of you jumped. It was a walker, burned and mangled and melted into the ground. Only its head was able to move, turning toward you in a melted-down helmet. You snorted. "That's ironic." 

Daryl huffed out a laugh and both of you started hysterical-giggling as you stared up at the sky. 

"What the fuck happened here?" you asked, glancing around at the ash. 

Daryl shrugged and straightened the bike. "Dunno. Help me push this." 

"Hey, the surviving part is over. Maybe we take two seconds and do some first aid?" you suggested caustically. "I don't know about you, but road rash hurts like a son of a bitch." 

Daryl looked at you, turning your chin so he could study your cheek. "That the worst?"

"Got some more on my side, but jacket took the brunt of it." You'd already stripped off the shredded denim, knowing it wasn't any good anymore. If you wrecked again, you were going to be fucked for real. A t shirt wouldn't protect shit, especially not one you'd cut open down the sides. Oh well, guess you'd better not wreck.

Daryl gestured and you turned and lifted one arm so he could assess the damage. "Needs cleanin', got some shit in there. It'll be aight, though. Get ya taken care of at home." 

"Thanks, doc," you muttered. "Your turn. What's bleeding?" 

"I might be, when Walsh sees ya face." Daryl grunted, pushing to get the bike into motion. "Help me, damn it." 

"Darrie, I can see your sleeve is shredded," you protested, but Daryl tossed his hair and gave the bike another shove. You sighed and settled in on the other side to walk it for awhile. It was easier and safer over this terrain, not to mention quieter. "You're a moron."

"Takes one to know one, ain't it?" 

"Fuck you, Daryl." 

The bike fell again, and you planted your hands on your hips and glared at your brother. He sighed and grabbed at the radio, not looking your way as he tried to hail anyone- Rick, Abraham and Sasha, Glenn. 

There was nothing. 

“Come on,” he muttered, reaching for the bike. 

Blood dripped down his fingers and landed on the seat and you snapped.

“Fucking hell. That is it! There is blood literally dripping down your arm. Take your jacket off and let me see or I’m going to cut it off you.” 

Daryl glanced at you and snorted. “Steal that look from Rick?” 

You decided not to respond because he was slowly peeling the jacket off as well as his glove. You caught the flickers of pain around his eyes and you hissed. “Damn it! Why wouldn’t you let me-“

A twig snapped and both of you whirled, weapons up and at the ready. 

Daryl whistled, and you helped him pull vine-filled bush half over the bike. He snatched the crossbow when you tossed it to him and lead the way toward the rustling sound. It was probably nothing, but being shot at might have made you both a little paranoid. 

Almost dying would do that to you, you supposed. 

He rounded a clump of trees and bushes trying to make a comeback from whatever had burned half the forest and froze. You blinked, gun lowering at the sight of two dirty, exhausted women. One stood straight and tall, arm up to keep the shorter haired one back. 

The protective one glared at the two of you. "Why can't you just let us go? We earned what we took!" she yelled. 

"What?" You frowned at her, confused as hell, and her eyes flicked to something behind you. "Shit-"

Pain exploded on the back of your head and the world abruptly went dark. 

"Do you even know how to use one?" 

You half-opened your eyes, head throbbing like a son of a bitch. The women were crouched around a low fire with an equally dirty man, who was stuffing Darrie's crossbow into a duffle bag. 

"Yeah. Never liked using them to hunt, but I can do it. We pick up Patty and we're gone." He zipped the duffle and you squinted as the world blurred and started to fade again. Goddamn it. 

"This is the last day we have to live like this," the man's voice continued. 

"Darrie?" You managed to get the question out, but you tried turning your head and everything went black again. 

Someone was holding your hand and your head felt like the Philharmonic Orchestra was trying to train a team of baboons on the drums. The hand was rough and gentle and you tightened your grip automatically as the baboons decided to add a horn section. 

"Slugger?" 

Fingers slid down your cheek and the horns, at least, stopped. You would have whimpered, but you didn't know if you could. 

Wait, that was Dickhead's voice. 

"Shane? My head hurts," you managed, refusing to open your eyes. You didn't need to give the baboons access to your retinas, thanks. 

Shane didn't sound right. You frowned in the general direction of where you thought he was as his fingers stroked your cheek again, his hand squeezing yours until it almost hurt. But it felt nice too, and it gave you something to think about besides the pain in your fucking head. 

"I bet, sweetheart. Come on, open those eyes and look at me." 

You wanted to, to make sure he was ok, because Dickhead sounded like maybe his head hurt worse than yours did, but on the other hand- 

"I don't think that's gonna help my head." 

He laughed. Ok, good, whatever had happened couldn't have been- 

Oh, god. Oh, fucking hell. 

It came back in sudden flash of awful- Mal, the Lullaby, the stinging pain of being slapped and then telling him you were done. Oh god, and then him shoving you back, and then.... nothing. Oh holy shit, how much of that had Dickhead seen? 

He'd said something now, about you opening your eyes helping him, and you figured you'd better do it. You had to face the music at some point, right? And if Shane was here in the hospital with you, then where the fuck was Mal? 

You pried one eye open and the world didn't end, so you repeated it with the other eye. Everything was bright and fuzzy and the baboons were just as horrendous on the drums as before, but you blinked a few times and Dickhead's face came into focus. 

Holy fuck, Shane looked wrecked. You could see the tear tracks and the wave of relief that swept through his eyes, and you could see the anger bubbling under the surface. Shit, he was pissed at you. Fucking hell. 

"Hey, Slugger. Scared the shit out of me, girl." 

And you had. You could tell you had, and guilt churned in with the pain. You never should have fought with Mal at work. You should have waited to argue until you got home, damn it. "Hey, Dickhead. What'd I do? Am I in the hospital? And who has the Tylenol?" 

How bad was it? You wondered, poking at your head to find out. You'd hit something… you had vague memories of seeing the back of the van? Maybe? Fucking- 

"Stop that," Shane snapped. "Leave those stitches alone. Yeah, you're in the hospital. I'll call the nurse in a minute. Just- sweetheart, who did this to you?" 

In terms of instant relief, the knowledge that Shane hadn't witnessed that was pretty damn strong. Hell, your headache started to fade and you figured you could maybe keep Malcolm out of prison- or the grave- if you lied your ass off. 

You didn't like lying to Shane, but you'd been doing it over Mal for awhile now, and what was one more? You looked at a spot just over his shoulder and wrinkled your forehead. "I don't really remember anything. I must have just-"

"Don't say you tripped," Shane spat. You could feel the way his hand had started to shake where he held yours, but he wasn't crushing your fingers in his grip like you'd have expected him to with that level of anger. "Don't. Don't give me that shit. Ace. Did Mal hit you?" 

Oh, fucking hell. Adrenaline was pumping through you, because you'd never seen Shane look quite like this. You didn't know what that expression meant; didn't know what that look in his eyes was or what he was thinking, but you knew things were never going to be the same now. 

His hand still cupped your cheek, and his fingers stroked lightly over your skin, a restless movement that tried to soothe the swirling chaos of fear, anger, and throbbing pain that filled you. 

Shane was going to be so ashamed of you. He'd be so pissed that you let yourself get smacked around by Mal. He wouldn't call you Slugger anymore; hell, he might not even talk to you once he knew how fucking fake you were. Acting like tough shit, Shane's Slugger, putting assholes in their place at the bar and defying the police with petty vandalism, but you went home and- 

You couldn't meet his eyes, but for some reason you also couldn't lie to him this time. "It's no big deal, Shane." 

You felt his hand twitch against your check, heard the sharp breath, and you braced yourself. You didn't even know what for, cause it was Dickhead, but you knew you'd stopped breathing and you were watching his every move from the corner of your eye. His jaw went tight and he closed his eyes, and a nurse walked in with a cheerful smile. 

"You're awake! Good!" 

Dickhead told you to think hard and brushed his lips over yours, and you watched him walk out with his shoulders slumped. He shoved a hand through his hair and hesitated, and you almost called him back to say you were sorry. 

You didn't even know what for.

"I ain't who you think." 

Daryl's voice was low and pissed, the kind of tone that didn't threaten violence so much as promise it. You'd only really heard it after the world ended, but it usually meant something drastic had happened and you should probably open your eyes now so you could get ready for it. 

"Say something else," another voice said, scared but serious. The click of a hammer being pulled back snapped the world back into focus and your eyes shot open. 

The asshole who clocked you on the back of the head had a gun in your brother's face, and Daryl was looking at him like he was not only horribly unimpressed but also kind of like he wanted the man to do it. "Just pull the trigger, I dare you," Darrie was saying, without saying a damn word. 

You'd have been amused at your twin if you weren't so fucking pissed off by the situation in general. Your head hurt, your brother had a gun in his face, your hands were tied, and you had some place to be, goddamn it, and it wasn't fucking around with these assholes. "Get that fucking gun out of my brother's fucking face, motherfucker!" 

It wasn't the most original sentence you'd ever come up with, but you figured the meaning was clear. The man shot you a glare. 

"It applies to you too, darlin'. Shut the hell up and get on your feet. Glad you're awake. We sure as shit weren't going to carry you."

You and Daryl exchanged a glance, and you eyed the gun held steadily on your brother. Should you risk it? 

Daryl climbed to his feet and you figured you'd better not. Better to wait for your opening. You staggered to your feet, head swimming for a minute, and wondered how many fucking head traumas you'd had so far and how many you still had coming. The numbers had to be getting ridiculous by now. 

"Follow them. Move!"


	58. Lie #58: "My Brother's An Idiot, That's Why" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence

The women walked in front, Daryl behind them, and the asshole with the gun bringing up the rear at your back. You'd caught Daryl's semi-murderous look and rolled your eyes when the man ordered him to go first. You had to give it to the asshole- with a gun on you, Daryl wouldn't do much of anything. 

It was, after all, the way Will had kept your brothers in line for years. Goddamn it, you were tired of other people using you as a bargaining tool. 

"Here, drink the rest." The protective woman, the one who'd told you she'd earned what she took, handed a mostly empty bottle of water to the blonde. 

"We should save it." 

Protective woman shot the blonde a look that almost had you laughing because you'd seen something similar on both your brother's faces before. You'd have bet good money the two were sisters. "We'll find more. You're supposed to stay hydrated. It all works together." 

The older sister- you could just tell- took the bottle back from the blonde and passed it to the asshole. He took a silent swig and then held it out to you. "We don't need you falling down," he said firmly. "Took a hard hit to the head." 

You scoffed and took a drink, leaving some for Daryl. The asshole took the bottle and started to pass it over, but Daryl stared at him wordlessly. He jerked his chin back in your direction instead, shooting you a look much like the older sister's. 

You sighed loudly. "Idiot. Drink it." 

"Shut up!" 

You rolled your eyes at the asshole, but you didn't say anything else. He turned back to Daryl and held out the water again. 

"They find us, maybe we give you to them," the asshole said, looking at you both while Daryl drank. "They let us call it even. See, we're reasonable people. Everybody's got their code. You feel you gotta kneel? Fair enough. We don't." 

What the fuck was this fucker going on about? You thought, staring at him blankly. Kneel? Code? What the damn hell? 

He snatched the bottle from Daryl's hand and gestured him forward again, lifting the gun to your head when Daryl would have stayed put. "Let's go." 

"This isn't home anymore, but it's better than where we were," Sherry said grimly. 

You'd picked up on their names at this point, from them talking among themselves. Sherry was the protective one, Tina was the blonde. The asshole was Dwight, or D. 

"It's just a pit stop. We pick up Patty and then we're gone," he said now, and it was like the fourth time you'd heard that. 

"How'd you do it?" Tina asked, looking at the burned ash that used to be a forest. Regrowth had begun, but it was going to take a long time for this area to recover. 

Dwight reached for your elbow when you stumbled slightly and you jerked away from him with a silent glare. He sighed, but didn't try to touch you again. "You saw where we left the truck? Opened up the valve and drove all the way in from Farmview Road. Ran from the treeline until we got to the pavement. Lit up a matchbook and dropped it in on the trail. Then we just ran for the car. Made it in, the dead ones were there, beating on the hood, and then boom! Knocked them on their asses and then I took an ax to each one." 

Ok, if you'd followed half of that, this dude blew up a forest and shit ton of walkers, then took out the remaining ones hand to hand. That was impressive, you thought begrudgingly. 

Sherry looked around with a sigh. "We just watched it go up. No more moans, no more of that wailing. It was just the fire, just burning them all away." 

"You did all this?" Daryl asked. 

"It was right at the start. Everything stopped- the TV, the radio," Sherry said. 

You remembered the power cutting out in the hospital and Daryl's grim, urgent face. You hadn't fucking believed him. Not until one had come into your room and Daryl had dropped it with the crossbow.

"We were here. The forest was full of them. And the other ones in town, they were drawn to it. They just walked right into the flames." 

"Clever," you said, remembering the walkers flooding Terminus after the explosion you'd set off. "Very clever." 

"We got most of them. Thought we ended them for us. She was in DC," Sherry went on, gesturing to Tina. "We thought everyone was fighting them where ever they were." 

"Yeah, that's what we thought everyone was doing. We'd all win together. We were stupid," Dwight said bitterly. 

"Think you aren't being stupid right now?" you asked, stopping and meeting his eyes. 

His gun was in your face, inches from your nose, in seconds. "You telling me I should kill you both right now?" 

Behind him, Daryl had gone tense, ready to fight, but you shook your head slightly. It wasn't the time, you knew. Not yet. 

"I'm serious. Are you two gonna try to pull something on us? Are we being thick here by not removing all doubt? Right now, by me not pulling this trigger, am I making a mistake?" 

"Pullin' that trigger would be a mistake," Daryl snarled. 

"Darrie, I've got this," you said in your best bored voice. 

Dwight looked between you and Daryl and shook his head. "I think I am. See, you made a choice to kill for someone else, to have them own you for a roof over your head and three squares, so maybe I'm not considering all aspects here." 

You blinked at him. You were starting to get fucking annoyed. Who the hell did these people think you were? "And once more, with feeling- what the fuck are you talking about?" you demanded. "Get that fucking thing out of my face or pull the damn trigger, man. At this point you've got your elbow locked, and you're gonna have to move it anyway." 

Dwight blinked, shifted his grip to two hands, and narrowed his eyes at you like he was considering it. 

You didn't have time for this fucking bullshit. "Listen, whatever the fuck you think we do, I guarantee you we don’t. My brother and I have somewhere important we need to be. We can help each other. We can help you." 

"You're out here alone. You're with them. You'd say anything. Why should I trust you?" 

You groaned loudly. "I don't know, man, you're the one who hit me over the head! Just- fuck it. Never mind. Made a decision yet?" 

Dwight lowered the gun and gestured you to start moving. "I should have never trusted you people to begin with. Come on. Come on!" 

Apparently your destination was a fuel truck depot. It was caged in and filled with walkers, and these clowns knew the owner. Whoever Patty had been, consensus was Patty wasn't living anymore. 

Dwight and Sherry were making a new plan, apparently, and you eyed Tina. Girl didn't look so hot. Daryl bumped your shoulder with his and you nodded, already thinking what he was thinking. This was the best chance you'd get. Dwight had left the two of you together, close to the trees, and wasn't watching you anymore. 

And plus, whoever had tied your hands? Wasn't very good at it. You'd been working them slowly and steadily while you walked, and you were pretty certain one good yank would have you free. 

Dwight, Sherry, and Tina were arguing about going back or going forward, and Tina dropped like a stone. 

You yanked your hands loose, snatched the duffle bag, and bolted for the trees with Daryl. Behind you, you heard Sherry's voice calling desperately, but you were more focused on the bullets flying at you as you sprinted off at Daryl's back. 

You skidded to a halt when the world started spinning a little too much, dropping the bag and turning to Daryl immediately. You gestured wordlessly, trying to get your breath back, and he held out his hands for you to pick at the knots. 

"Ya free?" 

You nodded, breathing a little better now, and flashed him a grin. "Someone ties shitty knots. Darrie, where the fuck are we, and how long has it been?" 

"Don't know, and overnight. It's nearly noon now. How's ya head?" he asked, bending to the bag and fishing out the radio. 

"My head is fine," you snarled. "All night? And noon? Goddamn it! Darrie-" 

"Shut up, sis, I know. Sasha, Abraham?" 

Static answered his hail and you groaned again. "Fucking perfect. Dar." 

"I know, damn it!" 

The walker snarling nearby put an end to the impending happy bonding moment between you and your twin, and you dove for the duffle to haul out Daryl's crossbow. It got hung up on the damn bag and Daryl called your name as he grabbed the walker and held it at arm's length. 

"Goddamn it. Six knives," you snarled. The damn crossbow finally came free and you hauled it to your shoulder and fired. The bolt slammed into the walker's skull through the left eye, and you looked at the crossbow in disgust. "Six knives between us, plus two guns and a crossbow, and that motherfucker took them all." 

You shoved the bow at Daryl and planted your hands on your hips as he took his bolt from the walker and restrung it. "Now can we please find Sasha and Abraham and get out asses home?" 

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Good shot. Look in the bag for the rest of our shit; I'll start figurin' out which way to go." 

"I was aiming between his eyes. Not for the eyeball," you muttered, but you started searching through the bag anyway. "What the fuck is… shit." 

Clear letters marked the medical cooler: "Insulin. Must be kept cold." You looked up at Daryl, who stared down at it, then looked back the way you'd come. He started chewing on his thumbnail and you rose slowly. 

"You have got to be shitting me, Daryl." 

He met your eyes and shrugged. "Should take it back. She was passed out. Needs that shit." 

"They knocked me out, kidnapped us both, and were threatening to give us back to an unknown someone. Probably whoever was trying to kill us earlier. They're dumbasses who aren't going to survive long out here, and besides," you hissed, beyond furious that he was even considering it, "we have to get home, damn it." 

Daryl nodded. Then he grabbed your hand and held your eyes seriously. "Yeah. But we ain't the kind who let people die." 

"Goddamn it, Daryl! I am!" 

You were. You would. You had to fucking get back to Shane and Judith and all the others. You had to, and you'd do whatever it took. Leaving the three idiots who'd kidnapped you and made you lose an entire night and most of a day? That was easy. In a heartbeat, them or yours? You were choosing yours.

Daryl crouched, dug out your knives and his, and handed them to you. He grinned a little when he pulled one of the guns out of the bag as well, checked the magazine, and passed that over too. Then he slung the duffle over his shoulder and shrugged. "I ain't. Don't think you are neither, not really. Come on, let's get it done so we can go." 

You tossed your hands up and looked at the sky, shaking your head and begging for the patience not to pull his hair and call him a butt like you would have if you were twelve again. 

You covered him from a little distance away, gun happily trained on the asshole who'd given you your most recent concussion. "Gun down," you snapped. "Put it down!" 

Daryl went in crossbow aimed and hand out. "Give it to me!" 

Dwight passed over the gun and you kept one eye on him and one on Sherry and Tina. Sherry had an arm protectively over Tina and you felt the first stirrings of guilt. Goddamn it, you thought. You needed to be home, but Darrie might be right. Maybe this was something you had to do as well. 

"I came all this way. What you got for the duffle?" Daryl snapped. "You put us through too much shit just to give it back. Principle of the thing." 

You bit at your lip, trying not to laugh. He sounded so fucking pissed, when coming back had been his idea all along. Dwight stared, wordless, and Daryl's eyes shot from him to Sherry. 

"What you got besides this gun?" Darrie demanded. 

You saw it in their eyes before Sherry spoke. "Nothing." 

Goddamn it. You agreed with Daryl. It was the principle of the thing. But also, you were giving the damn diabetic back her insulin. Now that you'd come all the way back, wasting precious time, you were going to give it to her. 

"What were you carving?" you asked abruptly. The dim memory of Dwight sitting in front of the campfire with something in his hand, carving away, arose. 

Dwight looked confused, but reached into his pocket and drew out a small figure. "My grandfather taught me-" 

"Don't care; it'll do." Daryl took the wooden figure and shoved it into his pocket, then tossed the bag toward Dwight. "Take it. It's all there." 

He backed up to where you were and slapped your shoulder as he turned his back on the other three. You lowered your gun but didn't put it away, eyeing the three one more time. "Good luck. You're going to need it." 

Trees snapped and you whirled, gun coming back up. You turned back to back with your brother, scanning the burned forest as Daryl pulled you behind the dubious cover of some trees. Trucks and men were coming- well, they were everywhere, you noticed. And they were armed. 

"Let's end this," one called. 

Sherry's voice trembled, but you had to admire her sheer balls. "It's ours. We earned what we took." 

"You're gonna return what you took. You're gonna pay for the gas it took to come out here, and for all the time these men took out. It's over. You know the rules." 

"These guys sound delightful," you whispered. "Surrounded, Dar." 

"Yeah. Shut up," he whispered back. 

"Your rules are batshit!" Sherry yelled. 

"We're not going back, Wade. We're done kneeling!" Dwight backed her up, and once again, you admired their guts. Whoever these assholes were scared the ever loving shit out of them, but they were fighting for what they believed in. 

"Don't change the subject, asshole." A whistle had the truck revving and starting forward, and you darted out from behind the tree to grab Sherry's arm and haul her with you. 

You didn't like the guys in the trucks. You didn't like these three much either, but you also figured whatever was waiting for them back where they'd come from wasn't something they deserved. 

Daryl grabbed Tina when she fell, and you hustled Sherry and Dwight along and wondered how in the fuck you constantly got yourselves into these things. 

You took cover behind a tangle of roots from a tree that had fallen in the fire, the three of them crouched and you and Daryl covering either side. Then your brother pulled his gun and handed it back to Dwight, and you stared at him for a full ten seconds before footsteps caught your attention again. 

Jesus fucking Christ, Darrie, you thought in despair. Honestly, how are you alive? 

Someone was coming, and you heard the head asshole's voice giving faint orders over the radio. Daryl hissed softly and you glanced at him, then followed the jerk of his head. A walker was trapped between a rock and a tree, and coming up behind it was one of the men. 

Daryl rattled the returning greenery nearby, just enough to have the asshole's head whipping over. He came up along beside the walker, gun outstretched but not fucking aimed- you could practically hear Dickhead's disgusted voice in your head- and you held your breath, wondering if he would actually be dumb enough for this to work. 

Apparently he was, since he turned, not paying attention, and started screaming when the walker took a bite out of his arm. You scoffed and shook your head, exchanging a look with Daryl as the asshole went to his knees and called that he was bit. 

Both of you ducked back further as head asshole came running up, glanced at the dude's arm, and promptly used his belt as a tourniquet. Head asshole whacked the man's arm off at the elbow with his machete while you thought about Hershel and tried not to throw up. 

"All right, that's it," head asshole spoke into the radio. "Time to go home. Cam got a boo-boo."

"Are you sure?" 

Head asshole grunted, picking up the man's severed arm and removing his watch. "Oh yeah. He only wanted to take this so far. He only wants ass that's willing, you know?" 

You looked at Daryl, eyes wide, as the two of them headed back the way they came. Sherry had a needle in her sister's arm, clearly dosing her with insulin, and as you heard the trucks leaving you scrubbed a hand over your eyes. 

What the hell. What the actual fucking hell? 

Dwight turned and looked at the two of you, relieved and clearly confused. "We thought you were with them." 

You snorted, because that much was totally fucking clear. And you'd told him repeatedly that you were, in fact, not.

"We knock your sister over the head, tie you both up, threaten to kill you… Why the hell did you come back?" he asked. 

You snorted and held out a hand to pull Sherry to her feet. "My brother's an idiot, that's why. Come on, we gotta go. Who the hell are those people?"


	59. Lie #59: "And I Am Happy. Who Says I'm Not?" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

Shane stared at the blood on the wall. The bullet hole was perfect, nine millimeter. He wondered if it had come from the gun currently on his hip. 

Morning had come; Judy had cried; Shane had fed her and exchanged insults with Merle. Jessie took Judith to babysit with a smile and a question about Rick that had Shane real curious what the two of them had talked about the night before, and Shane had started walking the wall. 

Ace and Daryl, Sasha and Abraham still weren't back. Shane was starting to get goddamn worried, and he didn't like it. Even at herd speed, they should have been back by now. 

"Morning," Rick said. 

Shane didn't look away from the blood oozing through the hole he may or may not have shot in the wall. "They should be back." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed with a sigh. He gripped Shane's shoulder and reached out to touch the blood. "They will be." 

Shane grunted an acknowledgement and nodded at the hole. "Seems fine. Nine mil." 

"Yeah. Shouldn't affect the structure any," Rick agreed. "There was a bit of trouble last night." 

"How so?" 

"Deanna killed a walker." 

Shane's head whipped around and he stared at Rick. "Inside?" 

"Yeah. Seems we missed one on clean up. She handled it. And was returning food to the pantry," Rick added, voice hard. 

He'd turned away from the wall, facing Alexandria and squinting in the morning sunlight. Shane sighed and shoved a hand through hair that wasn't there anymore. He scratched the back of his head instead, wondering if letting Merle shave it off had been the right idea. 

Shit, it'd grow back. It did last time. 

"Well, shit. Guess we better do another check. Maybe post a guard on the pantry?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow at Rick. 

Rick shook his head. "No guards. That'll just make people panic more. Here's the other problem I'm having." 

Shane waited when Rick went quiet, knowing damn well he'd talk when he was ready. 

"Morgan," Rick said finally, nodding to where his friend was doing some sort of drill with his staff. "Those Wolves I ran into. They got out of here with guns somehow. He doesn't believe in killing." 

"Yeah, he made that damn clear," Shane muttered. "Carol gave him a gun. Thinking he didn't use it?" 

"I am," Rick said slowly. "Don't know what to do about it." 

"Not killing people who need killing ain't a good thing, brother." 

Shane fell into step with Rick easily when he started wandering along the wall again. Rick nodded, looking lost in thought, and Shane stayed quiet. Walker in the walls had him worried, and he shuffled his morning priorities around to include grabbing the lump and doing a thorough cavity search of Alexandria. 

"Ace is gonna complain," Rick said, out of nowhere.

Shane blinked at him. "About what?" 

"Your head." Rick glanced at him, lips twitching in amusement. "Should I be worried we're gonna start arguing over everything again?"

"Shit. Next you're gonna ask me if I sacrificed anyone to the walkers lately," he muttered, annoyed. He scratched at the back of his head again as Rick snorted a gallows laugh. "Maggie's been on the wall most of the night. She and Aaron tried to get out yesterday. I didn't stop them." 

"Guess we are gonna fight. Why the hell not?" Rick demanded. 

Shane met his eyes steadily. "Because if I didn't know Ace was with her brother, I'd have gone over already. They didn't make it out, and they're fine. Don't bitch. Come talk to her with me."

"Damn it, Shane," Rick muttered, but he headed to the ladder on Shane's heels. 

"You don't have to be up here so much," Rick told Maggie. 

She didn't look at either of them as Shane leaned against the wall and stared down into hungry dead faces. "I won't be. This is the direction he'd come in. If he sends up a signal, it'll be from out there… Or it- it won't be."

"When we go out there, it's never easy. It's never simple. It's always a fight," Rick told her. Shane didn't have to look to know he'd have that damn earnest expression; he could hear it in the man's voice. 

He looked anyway. He'd been right. 

"We've come back from harder things," Rick said. He glanced at Shane, and Shane had a feeling Rick was talking to them both now. "From further away. Glenn, Daryl and Ace, Sasha, Abraham- they will too." 

"Damn straight," Shane muttered. He shoved off the wall and turned his back on the walkers. "Thing is, though, maybe we don't wait for them." 

Maggie looked curious. "What do you mean?"

"We figure out how to draw them away. I got some ideas I'm working on," he said with a shrug. 

Rick got that stubborn-bastard look as he considered it. "Got enough food and water to last us awhile; walls are holding. We can take our time. Do it right. Clear it so they can-- they can walk right in."

Well, that wasn't exactly what he'd meant, but shit. Rick was on board, so it was a matter of how and when, not if. Shane was good with that. 

"I saw Judith the other day," Maggie said slowly. "She's startin' to- she's starting to look like Lori." 

Rick looked at Shane, and Shane knew the familiar ache he felt at Lori's name was only a fraction of what was churning in Rick. "Yeah," Rick said softly. 

"It made me happy," Maggie said. 

Shane nodded to his brother and shoved off the wall, leaning over to kiss Maggie's cheek. "Me too," he told her, and started down the ladder. 

Lori glanced up from the stove as Shane walked through the back door and toed off his shoes. "Hey. Were we expecting you?" 

Shane gave her a surprised look. "No? Should I leave?" 

"Of course not. I just thought Rick said you had a hot date tonight," Lori said, giving him a suggestive smile that had Shane laughing. 

"I did. She cancelled; some emergency or other." He leaned on the counter and eyed the pan Lori shook and settled back on the burner. "What are you cooking? And where are the men of the house?" 

"Rick and Carl are up the street with the other kids. We're having fajitas." 

Shane's mouth started to water. "If I promise you never have to work a day in your life, will you leave Rick and run away with me?" 

Lori's laugh filled the kitchen as Shane shoved off the counter and moved to the fridge for a beer. He grabbed the bottle of white wine inside as well, pulling down a glass and pouring before leaning beside her. She rolled her eyes at him but took the wine, stirring beans with one hand. "So, who was it this time? A new one, or have you been out with her before?" 

"Would have been the first date," Shane said with a shrug. He reached over and shook the peppers and onions again as Lori did something to chicken and dumped it into another pan. "Kelli. With an i. Met her at the bar a couple nights ago; we hit it off. She gave me her number, told me to use it."

"Hmm." Lori's lips pressed together before she lifted the wine glass to them again. 

"What? I know that look." 

Lori shook her head, stirring the chicken without looking at him. Shane waited. He knew her well enough to know she had something to say and she'd get around to saying it eventually. 

"It's just that- Shane, when are you going to settle down? Get serious about dating?" 

Shane chugged from his beer while staring at her. What the fuck? Where had that come from? "What do you mean?" 

"I mean…" Lori huffed and flipped off burners, and Shane reached into the cabinet for four plates. She started dishing up food as Shane heard Rick and Carl's laughter on the back porch. "I mean, you clearly have a thing for your Atlanta friend, and I'm just wondering when you're going to stop screwing around and let yourself be happy." 

"Shit, Lor," Shane muttered, shoving a hand through his hair before scooping up two of the plates and his beer and following her into the dining room. "I do not have a thing for Slugger. And I am happy. Who says I'm not?" 

Lori opened her mouth to argue, but the back door swung open.

"Uncle Shane! Uncle Shane! I'm going to be first batter at the game this weekend!" 

Shane grinned and spun to high five Carl and wave at Rick, who waved back and lifted an eyebrow in question. Shane shrugged and made a vague gesture and Rick looked amused and distinctly unsympathetic. Lori started demanding hands be washed and manners be used at the table, and Shane settled into his usual spot beside Carl and laughed until his sides ached. 

"If we can get outside the walls, get back to our cars at the quarry, we could use them to draw them away." 

Rick leaned on the railing on his elbows, looking out over Alexandria. Shane had one hip on the rail beside him, but he looked inward, toward the house and the porch chair where Merle Dixon sat sharpening Michonne's sword. Shane shot a significant look at Merle over that one- fuck buddies, but here he was taking care of the woman's weapon for her?- and got a roll of Dixon blue eyes back. 

The lady herself stood on the other side of Rick and nodded, clearly thinking her way through the problem. "We set up more watch points." 

"Coordinate with guns and flares," Merle put in. "So's they go out in even directions." 

"We'd need all our people on it," Rick said slowly. 

Shane nodded. "Carl, Tara, Rosita, Carol. The four of us. You and me, running for the cars, brother?" 

"How's the shoulder?" Rick asked pointedly. 

Shane scoffed. "Shoulder's fine. Only stayed back 'cause we needed someone here and Ace would have bitched." 

Rick shot him a look that said he very much doubted Shane was telling the truth, but he nodded anyway. "You and me then, 22. Like old times."

"Always," Shane agreed. 

"What about everybody else?" Michonne asked. 

"The sheep, you mean? Shit," Shane muttered. 

She looked downright disappointed. "You too?" 

"Yeah, me too," Shane said. He turned and faced her, arms crossed. "Look, you weren't in here for the Wolves' attack. I was. These guys, they ain't seen shit. Most of them were useless. The ones that weren't, the ones that could be something good, they don't have the experience. And we don't have the time or the numbers to baby them along. Maybe after the current threat is handled. Give them some gun training, teach them how to hit the brain and not lose their damn knife. But not now." 

"I agree with Shane," Rick said slowly. "We haven't had a chance to catch our breath." 

"Really?" Michonne said softly, stepping closer to Rick with an incredulous look on her face. "We're in here together. All of us. We're catching our breath right now. Anything else is just excuses." 

Shane sighed and ran a hand over his head. Damn it, he thought. He had a feeling she was right, but there was one major problem, one thing that had him thinking it was best to keep it to the professionals. "Yeah, well, forgive me if I don't wanna trust being able to find my girl to these people. Aaron's alright, but most of them-" 

"Rick." Deanna's voice cut him off, and Shane turned in surprise. He hadn't seen her since she'd wandered off, looking defeated, after the herd arrived. She was smiling and breathless as she came up the steps now, gripping a roll of the architects' paper Ace had been coveting since their arrival. 

"What's this?" Rick asked. 

Deanna beamed at him. "Plans for the expansion." 

"I think we've got a few other things on our plate right now," Rick said dryly. Shane tried to hide his expression, but damn Rick could cut someone down to size when he wanted to, and it was funny. Worrying about an expansion when right now they couldn't even leave the walls, he thought irritably. Priorities, people. Please.

"I know." Deanna didn't look even remotely offended by Rick's clear disinterest, handing the plans to Michonne when she reached for them. "This is for what Alexandria can be after this. Because one way or another, there's going to be an after this." 

Shane took one look at Rick's face as Deanna left and rubbed at the back of his head. Damn it. "Guess I'm gonna go grab some guns and make sure they're all empty. Can't afford to waste the ammo or risk the noise, but we can do the basics. Shit. Lump, get your crew to work on more platforms along the wall. Gonna need them."

He knew better than to try to argue with that look. 

Six nervous faces stared at him as he popped the magazine from his Glock and opened the chamber to show them both were empty. He'd done this before, since the world ended, and he thought about how that moment when Rick had agreed to let him train Carl had been one of the first to make him think they might get to be family again. He'd be right, and he hated that most of the people he'd been training that day were gone now. 

But here he was with a slew of wide-eyed beginners, talking gun safety and the basics of how to operate a firearm like he was back in King County running a concealed carry class. 

He kept most of his attention on his students, but Merle and Rosita were nearby with a pile of machetes and more nervous faces. Merle had a gleam in his eye that had Shane wondering what the hell the man had up his single remaining sleeve, but Rosita ran a tight ship. They'd be fine.

"Watch your finger. Don't put it on the trigger unless you're ready to pull it," he reminded his people. "First mistake you'll make is thinkin' it's easy. You have empty guns, paper targets. It's a whole different ball game when you've got a person, dead or alive, on the other end of that thing. So you put that finger on the trigger, you better be damn sure you can follow through." 

Rosita's voice rose in the still air, and Shane looked over his shoulder in surprise. She was up in Eugene's face, with the smarty-pants scientist looking vaguely terrified. "Dying is simple. It all just stops. You're dead. The people around you dying? That's the hard part." 

Shane met Merle's eyes and pointed in question, but Merle shrugged like he didn't give a shit. Shane's students and theirs were all watching now, all listening, and Shane figured, fuck it. Wasn't like Rosita was wrong. Dying was the easy part. 

"Cause you keep living. Knowing that they're gone and you're still here. What you should be scared of is living, knowing you didn't do everything you could to keep them here." Eugene stared blankly at her and Rosita's lip curled. "Too upset to keep going? Are the noises scaring you, or can I get back to my lesson?" 

Shane watched as Eugene put down his machete and walked away, then he followed Rosita's advice and got back to his own lesson. They'd be switching soon, and these guys had a long way to go. 

Shane went looking for Rick when he couldn't take it anymore. He'd had more guns pointed at him today than he had in however damn many years he and Rick had been cops, and there was only so much of that he could take, even knowing they were empty. Plus, he had an idea. 

Rick wasn't going to like it, but what else was new? 

Rick was working on a lookout perch, on his own, and Shane winced at the sight of the man with a hammer. "Jesus," he muttered, jogging up to grab the other end of the board Rick was trying to balance against the wall alone while driving in the nail. "You're a shit handyman, brother. Don't you know better?"

"I'm not the one who flooded my basement." 

"Again? We've settled this. That was not my fault and we both know it," Shane grunted. "Just- give me the damn hammer before you break a bone in your hand." 

Rick snorted and shook his head, eyeing Shane even as he passed over the hammer. "What's on your mind, 22?" 

"Alexandrians are shit. Won't be forever, but I'm fuckin' lucky society ended before this crop of idiots walked onto an actual gun range. Had more- more weapons pointed my way than fuckin' Terminus, man." 

Rick half-laughed. "I bet. Why do you think I'm not doing that?"

"You teaching Jessie's kid?" 

Rick ran a hand over his face as they went for the next board, then passed Shane the screwdriver without Shane having to say a word. "I am. He needs it. Carl wants to help him. So do I." 

"You've got a crush on his mom and feel guilty for killing his dad," Shane said flatly. "Even though his dad was a sack of shit." 

Rick sighed. "Yeah." 

"It's a bad idea." 

"I know you think so," Rick agreed in that goddamn reasonable tone. 

"Got another bad idea," Shane added after a minute. Board in place, he turned to Rick, hooked his thumbs through his gun belt. "There's another way out. Saw Maggie and Aaron try to take it. Would only take a few people to make it happen. Get Merle and Michonne, you and I make a run for it. We lead them away, we go find Slugger." 

Rick stared at him, and his jaw worked as he clearly bit back the first things to cross his mind. "That is a bad idea." 

"I've gotta get out of here, brother. She's out there, so is Glenn. Glenn's one of mine. I found him, I sent him into Atlanta over and over, and he found you. We have to look." 

"And we will. Glenn is fine. So are the others," Rick started. He reached for Shane's shoulder and Shane jerked away from him. 

"Don't give me that, man. Don't. Just- she's out there, again. We both know the fact that they aren't back yet means something happened. I've gotta- I've gotta go, brother." 

"You won't make it on your own," Rick said. "Hey. You hear me? You won't. Give us until morning. If they're not back-" 

"Shit, man, if they're not back by morning, they're dead!" Shane exploded. He rubbed at the back of his head and groaned, looking away from Rick. "You know. You know that as well as I do. Don't give me that shit. I gotta- I'm gonna go stand watch with Maggie. You think it over. We can come up with a good plan, and you can help me, or I'll do it myself. But I'm not waiting until morning. Shit." 

"Shane. Shane!" 

Rick sounded pissed, but Shane didn't care. He stalked off toward the gate. He'd ask Maggie to help if he had to. He had a feeling she'd go for it. Shane, Maggie, Merle- maybe Michonne or Rosita. They could do it.

"Hey, Rhee," he said as he climbed up. "You been here all day?" 

"Most of it." 

Shane eyed her, worried. She looked pale, and she'd been up here most of the night too. He had a feeling "most" actually meant "all", and he bumped her shoulder with his. "Do I need to order you around like you did me once upon a time? Take a nap or you'll be useless." 

A faint smile flickered over her lips. "If I collapse, there's plenty of other hands here." 

"Well, that's true. That was the shit, wasn't it?" he said with a grimace. He leaned against the wall and made faces at the walkers below. His ugly friend from that morning was still there, and missing more of its face. Someone had gotten pushy down there and slammed it into the wall fast enough to break off rotten skin. 

"I'm waiting, Shane. I know you get it," Maggie said softly. "Please don't try to get me to come down." 

"Oh, I'm not," Shane assured her. He turned and met her surprised eyes. "I've got an idea. A plan to get out, lead them away, go find our people. You in?" 

She half-laughed, looking down and licking her lips. Shane waited, surprised she wasn't jumping at the idea. When she looked back up, there were tears in her eyes. "I can't go. I'm pregnant." 

Shane stared in silence for a full five seconds before he scooped her up into a hug. "Maggie. What? Jesus, Maggie. Congratulations, Rhee. Holy shit." 

She laughed for real now, swiping tears from her eyes. "Thank you. Thank you. I'm- Shane." 

Her voice went shocked and urgent, and she grabbed his shoulder as she stared at something beyond him. He whirled, wondering what fresh hell was joining the walkers now. Was the wall collapsing? An invading army of Wolves? Shit, what- 

"Shane, look," Maggie whispered. 

Shane was looking, and he couldn't stop smiling as the green balloons floated into the sky. Maggie's death grip on his shoulder was abruptly gone, and Shane rubbed a hand over the back of his head and half-laughed as he followed her down the ladder. 

Glenn Rhee was alive and kicking out there. Thank God. 

Maggie took off running the moment her feet hit the ground and Shane followed her, knowing this changed things. Now they'd have to start trying to get out faster than Rick had been talking about, cause they'd need to find a way to get Glenn information and help to lead the dead bastards away. 

Rick and Deanna were looking up at the sky along with everyone else when he and Maggie ran up. Maggie skidded to a halt right by Rick, who already had tears in his eyes as he looked at the two of them. 

"That's Glenn. That's Glenn," she said, voice watery and wild. 

Shane looked at Rick. "Brother-" 

"Yeah," Rick said. "Yeah, I-" 

Wood creaked and groaned, and Shane whirled with the rest of them to watch the clock tower start to fall like it was slow-motion.


	60. Lie #60: "Fucked Up In The Bar; It's No Big." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
hinted domestic violence/abuse  
mentions of drug abuse

More walking in the woods, but this time Dwight, Sherry, and Tina were actually giving you information. Not being tied up and threatened had improved your disposition somewhat, but you were still impatient and frustrated as you made you way to a cabin they knew. 

"So, let me get this straight. You knew them, but you still thought we were with them?" you asked. 

Dwight grimaced. "Where we were- we were there since the beginning and we still didn't know everyone. Back when we first threw in with them, it was as good a place as any. Then things got harder, people got harder. Human nature kicked in and it became a truly unique kind of shit show." 

Sherry, walking beside you, shrugged. "People will trade anything for safety. For knowing that they're safe." 

"Anything, everything," Dwight agreed. "So they've got nothing left, except… existing." 

You thought about Shane sacrificing Otis, about all the things you'd done to ensure that those you loved were safe. You had to get home, damn it. Had to know what was going on. "Sometimes people have something worth trading everything for, and it's not just their safety. Darrie." 

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, reaching back to touch your hand. "Soon." 

Sherry looked ready to question what you were talking about, but Tina chose that moment to take off running. 

"Tina, hold up!" Dwight called, and you muttered about noise as you all followed her. 

The cabin and the greenhouse were wrecked, barely standing burned out structures. Inside the greenhouse, visible under a sea of melted glass that looked like plastic, were two bodies. 

"Carla and Delly," Tina whispered. "It's them." She picked her way into the greenhouse as you looked down, hearing the grief in her voice and Sherry's. 

"We used to babysit them when we were kids. Everybody said they were up north when it happened. We didn't know," Sherry said, voice thick with grief. 

"I did this." 

You shot an annoyed look at Dwight as he stared, horror in is eyes. You could have told him that his choice had saved more lives than it cost. You could have said that he made a choice, and he couldn't second guess those after the fact or he'd never stop. That beating himself up for it wouldn't do any good and would just lead to him getting stupid and sloppy and being unable to make any choices at all. 

You didn't do any of those things. You turned and scanned the trees, then looked up at the sky instead, tracking the position of the sun and muttering under your breath at how it crept steadily across the sky. You needed to get home, damn it. You needed to- 

Tina started screaming. 

The bodies had turned. They'd laid under the melted glass, immobile, until Tina had knelt between them with flowers. Smelling flesh, they shattered the glass, grabbed the girl, and… 

Well, now you stood guard while Dwight and Daryl dug three graves and Sherry stared blankly into the distance. 

You and Daryl had handled the walkers. Dwight had taken care of Tina when she bled out. 

You glanced at Daryl, trying to force back the pity you felt for Sherry. You couldn't imagine losing your dumbass brothers, especially not right in front of you like that. She was devastated, and it showed. 

On the other hand, it was past noon on the second day. You didn't know what was going on at home; didn't know if Rick had gotten the back half of the herd away after all; didn't know where Abraham and Sasha were. This shit had to end, and soon. 

"Hey. Dwight. How many walkers ya killed?" 

You groaned. "Seriously, Darrie?" 

"Come on, sis," he snapped, looking irritated. "Ain't gonna just- fuckin' answer the question, man. How many walkers ya killed?" 

Dwight stopped his semi-frantic digging and glared, clearly confused by the line of inquiry. "A lot. A couple dozen at the least." 

You rolled your eyes and sighed, turning back to the trees.

"How many people you killed?"

Dwight's voice was exhausted. "None." 

You scoffed. No one got this far into the apocalypse without killing someone. Not if their spot was as bad as they claimed. "Why?" you fired over your shoulder.

"Why? Why haven't I killed anyone?" 

You turned and nodded, meeting his angry look. "Yeah. Why?" 

He shook his head, leaning on his shovel as he answered. "Because if I did, there'd be no going back. No going back to how things were." 

Like that was a possibility anyway, you thought with a mental eye roll. You looked at Daryl, caught him looking back at you and chewing on his thumbnail, and you sighed. "Shane's fucking hero complex is rubbing off on you, Darrie. Fine. Just- can we please get moving?" 

"We can walk it from here," Daryl told the other two as you helped him uncover the bike. "Until we meet up with my friends. They got a car, you can ride with them." 

He hauled the bike upright, checked it, and you heard the click. 

Motherfucking hell, you thought as you went still, raising your hands slowly. They had to be fucking kidding. "Darrie." 

He froze, muttered something under his breath, and whirled as he reached for the crossbow on his shoulder, but it was too late. His eyes met yours and you shook your head slightly. You didn't know exactly what was happening behind you, but your shoulders ached from the feeling of a gun between them. Sherry leaned in and pulled your gun from your holster and you sighed. 

"Seriously? We tried to help you assholes. After all this?" 

"Ya gonna go back? Gonna be safe? Ain't nowhere safe no more," Daryl said in a low voice, one that promised a fight was coming. 

Dwight sounded guilty, but not, in your opinion, guilty enough. "Just give her the crossbow. I don't want to have to shoot your sister." 

"You'd probably miss anyway," you muttered. 

"Shut up! Give her the crossbow!" 

"You gonna kneel?" Daryl asked with a sneer. 

Dwight fired, and you felt the bullet whistle past your ear. The world went silent in the roar of blood from your pulse, and you saw Daryl's eyes go wide and pissed, his lips moving. His movements were jerky and full of rage as he pulled the bow from his back and handed it to Sherry. 

You told yourself to take advantage of the distraction, but you couldn't get your legs to move or your mind to focus. Daryl reached for you, pulling you to his side, and you stumbled and fell into him. He wrapped an arm around you protectively, and suddenly, like someone had hit the mute button on the remote again, sound came back. 

"We're sorry," Sherry said softly. Daryl's bike roared to life and you tried to turn and look, but your body still wasn't responding to your commands. 

Daryl scoffed and rubbed your back, his voice hard and ugly. "Yeah. You're gonna be." 

The phone rang about an hour after you fell into bed, too damn tired to do much more than shed your shoes and your pants and crawl in still smelling vaguely like booze, sweat, and other people's cologne. You didn't know if the words that left your mouth were coherent or not, but they were definitely ugly as you grabbed at the phone without opening your eyes. 

"What?" 

"Hey, lil sister." Merle drew the 'hey' out to include about twenty seven more syllables than it should have had and you almost cried. 

"No." 

"Come on now, don't be like that. Ol' Merle got hisself into a bit of trouble, and I could use a hand, baby girl." 

You curled up tighter and wished you'd looked at the number before answering. You'd been afraid it was Shane, since he was still on his way home. "Call your handler. Merle, I just got to bed and I'm exhausted, I cannot deal with you tonight." 

"See, thing is, Daryl ain't answerin', sis. And uh- I could use the bail money," Merle added, tone wheedling. 

"The fuck you get picked up for this time?" you demanded. If it was drugs or booze, he could fucking rot in there while you caught a couple of hours sleep. It might do him some fucking good. 

If it was gang business, and he was in there with friends- 

You reluctantly tossed back the covers and sat up, still not opening your eyes. You wouldn't let him hang out in a cell if he'd been picked up on gang business. And especially not if there'd been issues with another territory. 

"Had me a little dust-up down the block," Merle said lightly. "Ain't no big. You should see the other guy."

"Goddamn it, Merle. Should you be in the hospital?" You finally managed to pry your eyes open and staggered toward the bathroom to splash water on your face and find some pants. 

You could practically hear the smile in your brother's voice. "Aww, shit, sis, I knew ya still cared." 

"Fuck you. I'm on my way. You owe me so fucking big." 

"Love ya too, Ace." 

You walked into the PD, waved to Officers Davison and Roberts, and headed straight for the desk sergeant. You waited when he held up a finger, phone under his ear and fingers moving rapidly over computer keys. He grunted a response into the receiver and hung up abruptly, then frowned at you. 

"Dixon?" 

You lifted two fingers in a salute. "Yeah. Here to redeem some of my frequent flier miles and retrieve some luggage." 

"What?" 

Ok, humor wasn't going over well tonight. Shit, it was probably because you were exhausted. "My older brother is in lockup; I'm here to take him home." 

The sergeant nodded, tapped keys rapidly, and scoffed. "Merle? This is his third time here this week. Honestly, the only reason he's not going directly to jail, no options, is because this time it wasn't his fault. I'd take him to the hospital if I were you. And while you're there," he added, voice changing as he eyed you, "I'd get yourself checked out." 

You blinked at him. "What?" 

"That bruise on your arm doesn't look good, and neither does the black eye. Look, Dixon, you're in here too often, but most of us like you." 

You'd forgotten, about both the black eye and the arm. You resisted the urge to tug your sleeve down, knowing full well that would only lead to more questions. The last bit had you lifting an eyebrow in surprise. You didn't even know this guy's name. 

He leaned across the desk toward you and his voice was earnest and sincere. "If there's something going on, just tell one of us. Any of us. We're here to help, not just bust you for petty vandalism and your brother for- well, honestly, for his entire existence. That man belongs in a cell." 

You'd been annoyed, but that had you smothering a laugh. "Look, you're not wrong there. But nothing's going on. I got the black eye failing miserably at a bottle toss. Like, 'lucky I still have the eye' miserably. It's a solid three weeks old. And I ran smack into a doorway trying to navigate my apartment with my eyes closed. I appreciate the concern, but I'd really just like to retrieve my idiot brother and go home so I can sleep. I worked until one." 

"Dixon, what the hell. It's two forty-five," Casey's voice came from behind you. "You should be in bed. Why are you- did we bust your brother again? Damn it, keep him out of trouble." 

You turned and smiled, because you really did like Casey. He frowned at your face and you waved it off. "I'm not his mother. Fucked up in the bar; it's no big. Long time no arrest, man. How are you? How's the baby?" 

Casey's eyes lingered on your arm as you willed him not to ask any more questions, but he smiled at the mention of his baby. "She's trying to run already, I swear, and she just started crawling. She'd pulling up on the furniture and chews on anything she can reach." 

"Aww, Officer Dad," you teased. "I'm happy for you." 

"I'm happy I haven't busted you in awhile," he countered. "Keep it that way, ok, Dixon? I'll go check on your brother; you should be asleep." 

"Does everyone around here know my schedule, or is it just you?" you demanded as he headed toward the back. 

Casey shot you a look over his shoulder. "We all know when the Lullaby closes. Sit down before you fall down and I have to keep both of you Dixons from driving." 

"Good to see you, Casey! Come in for a drink sometime!" you called as he disappeared. You flashed the desk sergeant an exhausted smile. "You too. Hell, bring the precinct next week. I'll tell Dickhead to bring King County, too, and we'll have a drink off." 

"Have you seen these boys drink? We'd have King fucking County under the table." 

You laughed and headed for a chair. "That's the spirit. Atlanta's finest! First round's on the house in the Lullaby. Remember that next time one of you wants to arrest me."

"Sis? Ya breathin'?" 

You closed your eyes as Daryl grabbed your shoulders and drew you away from him, opening them again when he shook you slightly.

"Come on, I know ya don't like that shit, but we gotta get movin'. Snap out of it, Ace," he demanded, and you scowled at his tone. 

He should try reliving old traumas after the day you'd had. See how he fucking felt. Instant regret flooded you for that thought, cause god knew he probably did that all the damn time. After all, he had as many of them as you did. Just like that, you had control of your body again, and you shoved a shaking hand through your hair, then touched his cheek and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm- I'm good. Jesus, I'm so sorry. I should have kept an eye on them, and-" 

"Aw, shut up," Daryl muttered, pulling you back into a sudden, tight hug. He let go abruptly, bending to scoop up a couple of sealed bandages on the ground. "They got us both. Shit. We gotta go. Gotta find Sasha and Abraham. Those two fuckers can go die." 

You snorted as you fell into step with him. "That's what I said. Going to let me patch that arm up now?" 

"Can ya do it while we walk?" 

You rolled your eyes and ground your teeth together, trying not to scream. "Fine." 

The walker with the helmet burned to its face was still alive. Daryl stared down at it, like he was contemplating changing that fact, and you waited in silence. You were tired and you were stressed and you didn't give two shits about one walker that couldn't move and couldn't bite. 

You frowned, looking down at your feet, and dropped to a crouch. You brushed dirt off the access hatch and tilted your head to one side. "Darrie." 

He moved up behind you. "Huh." 

Patrick Fuel Company was written on the hatch, and you and Daryl looked at each other and then around. Dwight had said they left a fuel truck and ran for a car, and maybe… just maybe, you thought. 

"There," Daryl grunted. 

You followed him, heading toward the trees, and started to smile. He was right.

The fuel truck's tank was half full. Sasha and Abraham had not only survived the night, but Abraham had found new toys. He had a crisp military jacket on, dress blues, and he was relaxed and smiling when they came walking to meet you and Daryl. 

And he'd found a fucking rocket launcher. And missals. You were genuinely concerned by the level of happy it made him to show off. 

The truck was a tight squeeze with four of you, but you made it work. As you finally, finally headed home- Daryl driving despite your protests that you really should be behind the wheel cause the last thing you all needed was another Lori moment and you guys had all had shit enough luck this trip it was a genuine concern- you leaned forward and grabbed the radio from the dash. 

"Rick, you copy?" Static answered and you sighed and tried again. "Merle? Glenn? Anybody?"

Something garbled came across and you shot Daryl a wild look. 

"Say it again?" you called into the radio. 

Static hissed, and one word came clear. "Help."


	61. Lie #61: "Someone Had To Go." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
character death (canon)

Shane and Rick started screaming instructions at the same time. Shane turned and pushed Maggie back, his mind whirling with what was about to happen when that tower hit the ground and took the walls with it. 

Next thing he knew, Shane was airborne, the force of the landing slamming into him and lifting him off his feet. He stayed put, stunned into immobility, as a cloud of dust billowed over everything. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and tried to put him mind back in order when the dust cleared, content to stay on his back while he figured out just what the hell to do next.

Then the snarls and moans registered. 

"Fuck," he mumbled, shoving to his feet as blind panic replaced the confusion. Rick yelled for everyone to get in their houses, and Shane honestly didn't know what to do first. The whole damn herd was pouring in, and they had people everywhere. The hits just kept rolling, he thought grimly. 

He fired automatically as the walkers rolled forward, an inevitable tidal wave that would swept the town in minutes. He tried to collect himself, but he must have hit the grounder harder than he'd even thought, since his thoughts felt like sludge. People were crying out in fear, and Shane did a rapid scan to see who needed rescuing most. 

Not that there was much hope of rescuing anyone, including himself, but what the fuck else was he going to do? He saw Merle swing his machete hard enough to decapitate a fucker right before he disappeared around a corner, and Shane said a quick prayer to a god he didn't believe in that the lump wouldn't get himself killed doing something stupid.

When Maggie cried out, sounding more frustrated than afraid, Shane knew where he was going. Of course, he couldn't fucking get there. There were too many dead between them, and Shane was doing his level best to not die, like he'd promised Ace, and he could only keep looking back in something like pure panic as Maggie scrambled up the ladder toward the lookout perch, kicking dead bastards off her as she went. 

"Shane!" 

He turned at the last second and used his shoulder to toss the walker inches from his neck. Rick fell in at his side, Deanna leaning against him pale and bloodied. 

"Carl, Judy," Shane snapped, dropping another one and continuing their mad fight to get… somewhere. Anywhere.

"Yeah," Rick agreed. 

"Rick! Shane!" Michonne ran up, sword out and bloodied, and Shane let out a breath of relief. Especially when he saw Carl with her, gun drawn and face completely calm. They'd collected Jessie's kid, Ron, and Father Gabriel, and Shane grabbed Carl's shoulder as the kid reached his side. 

"Hey, little man. Glad to have some backup." Shane flashed Carl a slightly crazed smile, getting a quick grin back before both of them popped off rounds into the dead. Rick and Deanna were calling shots, Shane, Michonne, and Carl falling in with them at the point and Ron and Gabriel in their center. Their wedge moved forward, following the path of least resistance, and Shane had a moment to believe he'd survive this bullshit too. 

Then of course, a wave of the fuckers came shambling up the cross street and blocked them in. 

"Shit," Shane muttered. They were surrounded and Shane knew it, and a quick glance at Rick's face showed he knew it, too. 

There wasn't any choice, and Shane made the decision in a second. It wasn't even a decision, really, and his only regret was breaking his promise to Slugger to do whatever it took to get back to her. Rick half-yelled his name as he took the first running step, but Shane knew if he hesitated he wouldn't do it and they'd all die. This way, at least Rick could have a chance of getting Carl out of here. 

Sorry, sweet, he thought wildly, firing as he charged. It's the goddamn hero complex. His gun clicked and he dropped it, shoving the nearest dead fuck back and reaching for his knife. They were closing in around him already, Rick and Carl and more calling his name, and he knew it wouldn't take long. 

Gunfire sounded and the three closest to him dropped. 

"Come on; I have Judith!" 

The split second he spent staring at Jessie's oddly calm expression, trying to process the changes to his survival status in the past five minutes, almost cost him. He stabbed out when the rotting flesh touched his neck, a blind reaction that somehow found the brain. He shoved the body back into a handful of its dead bastard friends, then followed the others up the stairs to Jessie's porch. 

Alright, he thought as he ushered Carl through the door, taking the gun from Jessie and covering them. He backed through the doorway and Michonne slammed it closed, and Shane stood completely still, breathing hard, as the herd flowed by the windows. Alright. Still alive. 

Even he wasn't sure how. And goddamn, his head hurt. 

He held Judith and tried not to think about just how close he'd come to not seeing Slugger again. He hadn't thought, out there when he'd charged the herd. He'd reacted. Same old Shane, he thought now. Reckless. Rash. 

"Goddamn hero complex," he muttered to himself. At least his head was clearing, but from the size of the bruise on the back of it, he'd hit something hard on the way down. Probably had a concussion, damn it. And he joked about Slugger needing a helmet. He peeked out the upper windows at the dead shambling through the streets and tried to think now. 

There had to be a way out. They had people they needed to check on, and if they could get to the armory and find the flares, they could lead the herd back out of the town. Then they'd- 

They'd what? He thought. How the fuck would they even get to the armory, much less outside to a vehicle to lead it away? 

He didn't have any answers to that that wouldn't involve someone doing something incredibly stupid, and he figured he'd used up all the stupid charging at a street full of walkers in a bid to go out in a blaze of sacrificial glory. He fully expected to get his ass handed to him by Rick when he was done patching up Deanna. 

Judith put her fingers insistently in his mouth and started babbling, and Shane looked away from the dead to focus on the living. He bounced her a little and smiled, and she smiled right back. In with the nonsense noises, Shane could have sworn he heard "Ace". 

"Miss our Slugger, too? Yeah. I know, baby girl," he whispered. "We're gonna figure out a way clear of this. Don't know what, just yet, but I'm gonna try not to do anything dumb." 

"Anything else, you mean?" 

Shane didn't look away from Judy. "Your dad thinks he's funny. He should remember how many stupid things I've seen him do over the years, though." 

"Shut up," Rick said, sounding tired. "Deanna's bit." 

"Oh, hell," Shane muttered. That did get him to look up, and he studied Rick closely. "What about you?" 

Rick waved him off, leaning wearily against the wall. "I'm fine. How about you? Wanna talk about that stunt out there?" 

"Had to make an exit," Shane said with a shrug. "Someone had to go. Figured you had a better chance of keeping Carl alive." 

"That's fucking bullshit and you know it. We could have fought our way out together, if we'd made a plan." 

Shane scoffed. "Have you looked around, brother? There isn't a plan anymore." 

"Yeah, there is," Rick disagreed. He jerked his head, motioning Shane to follow him. They started for the stairs, Rick talking rapidly. "There's plenty of food to last awhile. They'll cluster up, and I'll try for the armory." 

"Flares to draw them off," Shane said, leaving aside both the waiting and the 'I'. They could fight over it later. 

"From the gate," Rick agreed. "Try to draw them out, lead them somewhere that's not here." 

Shane knew that tone. He stopped Rick in the living room, hand on his arm. "This is not your fault." 

"How's that?" Rick asked, jaw tight. "My plan. I led them here." 

"No, you got here ahead of them," Shane fired back, getting impatient. Every time, it was the same. Rick made a plan, a good plan. Plan went to hell, Shane did something reckless, and Rick blamed himself. Shane's head hurt too damn much for it right now, and they were probably gonna have to do something reckless again before they made it out of this one. "Your plan went to shit when we got attacked by outside forces. This? This whole mess is the fault of those damn Wolves. The wall breaking is not your fault. Deanna getting bit is not your fault. None of it is." 

Rick shook his head, looking away and making a vague gesture. "I don't know, brother, if-" 

A yell and a crash came from the garage, and Shane and Rick both whipped around. Shane froze when Judy's lip trembled and she let out a small cry. "Go," he told Rick grimly. 

Jessie passed him at a run and Shane paused when Rick pounded on the garage door and yelled for Carl, Jessie called Ron's name as she joined him. 

"Shit," he muttered. He took the stairs two at a time, looking for Gabriel or Michonne to pass Judith off to. He had to get back down there. 

He knew Ron was trouble, damn it. Kid was angry and bitter, and angry and bitter people tended to also be stupid ones. Shane only had room for so much stupid, and he'd filled the quota himself today, damn it. The punk would have to get in line. He set Judith, now calmed and watching him with wide eyes and a solemn expression, into her pack'n'play and yelled for Gabriel to keep an eye on her. If the preacher was going to hide upstairs with them, he could at least be useful while those he deemed evil kept his ass alive. 

Rick yelled Carl's name again, swinging a hatchet to the lock on the door, and Shane could feel his blood churning. Carl wouldn't have locked the door. Not with the walkers outside. Carl wouldn't be making that goddamn much noise unless something was horribly wrong. 

"Rick!" He yelled it as he took the last few steps at run, gathering speed and bracing himself to do a maneuver he hadn't done since he quit college football. He'd never been much of a linebacker, but he'd busted down a few doors for King County Sheriff's Department, and between football and the police academy, he figured he could take one goddamn door to get to his nephew. 

Rick spun to the side and Shane hit the door with his shoulder, square on. Still had it, he thought smugly as the lock snapped against his weight. Maybe it wasn't the best time to be pleased with his football skills, but shit. Shane fell through the door, momentum still bringing him forward, rolled, and grabbed Carl's arm. Kid was trying to block the glass door to the outside with a metal shelving unit, but the glass was already broken and the dead were piled against it. They had, at best guess, about thirty seconds to get out of the garage and into the house. 

They barely made it.

"What happened in there?" Rick demanded, and Shane was also very interested in the answer to that question. 

Especially when Carl lied. 

"We were looking for tools and knocked over a shelf," he said, eyes anxious as Shane and Rick held the garage door closed against the dead.

Shane met Rick's eyes and knew damn well Rick believed that about as much as he did. The door bucked with the weight of the dead pounding on it, despite them and Jessie and the couch Michonne had wrestled over to brace it, and Shane gritted his teeth and hoped they found something else to jam up against it as well. Like maybe a brick wall.

"We heard yelling," Jessie said from Shane's other side. At least she wasn't buying this either, he thought as Carl gave some bullshit about Ron seeing them break through the gate. 

"We had to move," Carl added, meeting Shane's eyes and then Rick's. 

Shane had to give it to the kid, he lied well. Though maybe that wasn't such a good thing. 

"Carl, there's nightstands in my mom's room. We can brace the couch with them," Ron said. 

Carl nodded and Shane watched them go with narrowed eyes. He glanced at Rick and Rick jerked his chin in their direction. He frowned, cause while he also wanted to go check up on that situation, Rick wasn't going to hold this door by himself for long. Michonne reappeared with a coffee table, thank God, and Shane shifted out of the way and searched for the kids. He had some more questions. 

He saw Carl close the door to the master bedroom, and Shane shook his head at his nephew's sheer stubbornness. No wondering where the hell the kid got that from, he thought dryly. Something had happened, that was clear. The question was, just how badly was Shane gonna have to put a grieving punk teenager in his place? He rubbed a hand over his head and stalked to the door, tired of this shit already.

Fucking with Carl, especially in the middle of a life or death situation, wasn't something he'd let anyone get away with. 

"Look, man." Kid sounded pissed as hell through the closed door, with a world-weary edge to his voice that Shane thought sounded vaguely familiar. Shit, it sounded like him. "I get it. My dad killed your dad. But you need to know something. Your dad was an asshole."

Shane slapped a hand over his mouth to hold in the laugh that wanted to escape. He knew he should go in there, but shit. Carl seemed to have it handled. 

"Your dad beat up on you and your mom, and probably your little brother as well. If my dad hadn't killed him, Uncle Shane would have. Or Ace, or Carol, or any of my family. Hell, I would have. He needed killing. Don't be like him. This isn't comics, man. We're not going to have some blood feud carried on for generations. We don't have time for that. Try anything again, anything at all, and I'll tell them what really happened out there." 

Shane decided that was enough and tossed open the door. Carl glanced over his shoulder, looking utterly unconcerned about how much of that Shane had heard, and Shane decided to be worried about Carl lying to them all with zero qualms when the dead weren't trying to eat him and almost everyone he loved. Ron, on the other hand, was pale and pissed, and Shane shot him a hard look. "Come on, kids, we need those nightstands." 

Carl nodded. "Got it. What about the mattress too?" 

"Good thinking, kiddo," Shane agreed. He met Carl's eyes as Ron left the room without a word- or a nightstand, Shane noted- and Shane knew Carl knew he'd been listening. "All good?" 

Carl nodded. "Yeah. Let's get the nightstand first." 

Something clattered on the porch, sounding like most of the contents of a tool box hitting the floor at high speeds. Shane winced. They'd barely gotten the garage door handled, damn it. 

Michonne sighed, letting the curtain fall back over the window. "They knocked the sculpture over. All that noise is drawing more." 

"Damn it," Shane muttered. The glass wouldn't hold long if the walkers built up on the porch and pushed into it. Plus, the barricade in front of the door to the garage probably wouldn't do much better, and-

Rick rubbed a hand over his forehead as Judith started to cry from upstairs. "I'll get her."

"I should have gone into painting, like Ace," Jessie said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. 

It didn't work. 

They broke through the glass about two minutes later. Shane exploded into action with everyone else, holding the box spring from Jessie's bed in place against the window while Ron and Carl drug a bookshelf over. 

Rick took the stairs three at a time and added his own weight, but Shane shook his head. It was a loosing battle. They were going to have to give ground, and they were rapidly running out of places to retreat. "Too many of them," he told Rick grimly. 

The backdoor shattered. "Everyone get upstairs, now!" Michonne commanded, leaving the front to them and taking the first of the walkers to force their way inside.

Shane shoved Carl to the stairs, sending Jessie and Ron on his heels. He and Rick glanced at each other, nodded, and took off at the same time. Behind them, the walkers burst through the barricade in seconds, and Shane spun with his machete in hand and wondered what the fuck to do now. 

"Couch! Block the stairs." 

Michonne covered them while Rick and Shane darted back out to grab the couch, and a little maneuvering blocked the stairwell enough for them to take a breath. Shane leaned on the wall, staring at the dead already piling up, and he figured it was time to propose another bad idea. 

He rubbed a hand on the back of his head and looked at Rick from the corner of his eye. "So, I've got a bad idea. One of your bad ideas, actually." 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly. He pointed his hatchet at the ugly bitch in the very front and met Shane's eyes. "I've got the same idea. I'll get that one. You get the next one. We're gonna need at least two." 

"This is a bad idea," Rick whispered. 

Shane shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder. "Shhh. It's a great idea, as long as we don't get caught." 

"Thanks, 22, I never would have planned on that." 

Shane stifled a laugh at Rick's dry tone and poked his head around the corner. The coast was clear, so he took a deep breath and looked back at Rick. "Ready for this?" 

Rick looked anything but ready, honestly, but he handed Shane a carton of eggs with a sigh. "I still think this is a dumb idea." 

"I mean, you're not wrong. But Mr. Blackwell's a bastard, and he shouldn't have failed you," Shane said firmly. "This is how we get revenge, and he'll never know it was us." 

He studied the gleaming Corvette for a minute, holding the first egg in his hand. "It's a shame. That's a great car," he whispered sadly. Then he grinned and pitched the egg like a fast ball, hard and furious. 

It made a satisfying thunk when it shattered on the door, and Shane looked over at Rick and lifted his eyebrows in question. Rick waited, grinned back when nothing happened, and then both of them lobbed eggs furiously. 

Of course, two minutes later, the porch light came on and they had to run.


	62. Lie #62: "You Just Took It" - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence

The cab of the truck was silent, all of you lost in your own thoughts as you made your way back toward home. What the fuck was going on there? 

After that one call for help, you hadn't been able to raise anyone on the radio, and you were chewing your thumbnail absently and mentally urging the truck to move faster. You'd already argued with Daryl about pushing it more until he'd told you to shut the fuck up because you weren't helping anyone with your constant bitching. Sasha had stared resolutely forward, not looking at you or saying a word, but Abraham had let out a low whistle and made a comment about sibling relationships that had actually had you trying not to laugh. 

Since Daryl was, unfortunately, right, you'd let him get away with it and fallen silent. You frowned as you came around a curve, eyes on the road ahead. "Darrie." 

"Yeah, I see it," he agreed. 

"What in the holy shit?" Abraham asked, sounding almost as over everything that had been happening as you were.

Motorcycles blocked the road, seven of them, with all but one rider bracing their bikes upright. You thought about Daryl's bike and that had you grinding your teeth together, because you hoped Sherry and Dwight rode it straight to hell. "Goddamn it. What else is going to happen today, huh? Aren't we done?" 

"Apparently not," Sasha muttered, and you almost snapped at her not to be bitchy. You realized at the last second how very bitchy a comment like that from you would be, and instead focused on your brother as he slowed to a stop. 

"We got a plan, Darrie?" 

"Find out what they want," he said with a shrug. "Cain't go through 'em." 

You eyed the smirking asshole with his hands in his pockets. "No, I bet we could." 

"Damn it, sis," Daryl muttered. "Just shut up for two minutes while we figure this out." 

"Why don't you come on out? Join us on the road?" Head asshole looked very confident that you would do as he said, and your immediate response was to say no fucking way.

Unfortunately, the rifles held in the hands of the other six members of his team said maybe you should. 

"I mean, if you wanna resist, try something- I mean, it's a choice, I guess. But we will end your asses. Split you right in two, straight through to the sinuses. So come on." 

"Can we kill this guy?" you muttered as Daryl cut the engine and opened the door. "I hate him already." 

Daryl shot you a "shut up" look and you climbed down after him. You stood with your arms crossed and all the annoyed bravado you could muster, because from the looks of things you actually were heading up shit creek again without a damn paddle and with a leaky canoe. Frankly, this was getting embarrassing. 

"That's good. It's going well, right out of the gate," head asshole said brightly. He leaned against the handlebars of his bike and smirked at you all before his face turned serious. "Now step two. Hand over your weapons." 

"Why should we?" Daryl snarled. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. So you couldn't be a smart ass, but Daryl could? 

"Well, they're not yours." Head asshole said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, and you blinked at him in confusion. 

"What?" Abraham asked. 

Head asshole chuckled and came forward a little, ticking points off on his fingers. "See- your weapons, your truck, the fuel in your truck, if you got mints in your glove compartment, if you got porn underneath the seats, change in the seats; hell, the seats themselves, the floor mats, your maps, the little stash of emergency napkins you got there in the console-" 

"Oh, shut up already," you groaned, unable to help yourself. 

Head asshole turned flat eyes and his fake jovial expression to you and came wandering over. Daryl tensed, shifting slightly, but you ignored him and met the asshole's gaze steadily. "None of those things," he continued like you hadn't said a word, "none of those things are yours anymore." 

"And whose are they?" you asked, projecting all the boredom you could even as you started to get worried. They were too cocky. Too sure of themselves. 

He stepped forward, face going hard as the humor drained from it. "Your property, little lady, now belongs to Negan."

It took some effort, but you resisted the urge to ask who the fuck that was. His expression cleared from the deadly cold and went back to lighthearted friendliness in a switch that sent nausea churning in your stomach. 

"And if you can get your hands on a tanker, you're people our person wants to know. So." He smiled at you and then gestured to Daryl. "Let's get those side arms, shall we? Right now." 

Daryl stared him down, and for a second you thought you were about to get into the worlds shittiest fight. Darrie had a gun from Sasha and Abraham, but they'd only had three handguns and the rifle between them. With Sherry and Dwight having taken both yours and Daryl's, as well as the crossbow, you'd shrugged and said you'd be fine without one until you got home. Now, you wondered if Daryl meant to take on all seven heavily armed bikers with three Glocks, one rifle still in the cab of the truck, and sheer willpower. 

Of course, there was also the grenade launcher, but getting to that was going to be difficult. 

Then he pulled the gun from his back and handed it over, eyes never leaving the head asshole's. "Thank you," asshole said with a fake smile, and he turned to you expectantly. 

You sighed. "Only have knives on me. Want those?" 

"No, those you can keep. May I? Not that I don't trust you, but well- I don't trust you," asshole said with another smile. 

Daryl took half a step in your direction, but you held your arms up and shot him an irritated look as the biker briskly checked to make sure you weren't hiding a gun in your belt. He stepped back and nodded, then wandered down toward Sasha. 

"Thank you," he said brightly when Sasha handed over hers without a word. Abraham stared straight ahead, and the bastard waited a beat. When Abraham didn't move, he sighed. "If you have to eat shit, best not to nibble. Bite, chew, swallow, repeat. It goes quicker." 

That was almost funny, you thought as Abraham slowly pulled his pistol from the holster and handed it over. Almost. 

"Who are you people?" Sasha demanded as head asshole wandered back toward his bike with your guns. 

"I get the curiosity, but we have questions ourselves. And we'll be the ones asking them, while we drive you back to wherever it is you call home. Take a gander at where you hang your hats." 

Oh, like hell was that happening, you decided grimly. You had absolutely no idea how you were going to prevent it, but there was no way in hell you were taking these assholes anywhere near Alexandria. Especially not without knowing what was going on back there. You started scanning faces, wondering what options you had and just what in the hell you could possibly do. 

Honestly, the only viable manner of attack was going to be that grenade launcher, and really, how the fuck did you think you'd make it all the way back there to get that without someone getting killed? 

"First, though, your shit," head asshole said brightly. "What have you got for us?" 

"You just took it," you snapped.

Head asshole sighed, half-laughing as he shook his head. "Come on. I mean, can we not, ok? There's more. There is always more." 

When none of you said anything, head asshole sighed. He gestured with Abraham's pistol, swinging one leg over his bike and settling into the saddle. "T, take the little lady to the back of the truck. Start inside the back bumper, and work your way to the front." 

"Ya ain't takin' her," Daryl snarled. 

You rolled your eyes, already preparing to go. "Don't have a choice, Dar," you muttered. 

T flashed you a grin. "No, you don't. Go. Stay," he added when Daryl tensed up. "Or stay permanently." 

Daryl held your eyes and you mentally urged him not to do anything stupid. 

One of you doing so was going to be enough. 

Honestly, it was a blur. You hadn't really understood when Shane talked about how the thing on the farm with Otis was fuzzy in his memory; how he knew what he'd done but couldn't really have told you how he did it. 

You couldn't have told anyone how you did it, either. 

But somehow, you waited until the guy opened the back of the truck, then managed to get the hunting knife Daryl and Merle insisted you carry and jammed it up into the base of his neck before he could cry out. You slapped a hand over his mouth and eased him to the ground, trying not to think too hard about what you were doing as you drove the knife through his temple for good measure. 

Killing someone up close and personal like that was not easy. Your stomach churned and you forced back the nausea and fear that left you wanting to curl up in a miserable ball. You could hear head asshole talking, and you prayed that he'd keep going and not do anything dramatic long enough for you to get to the grenade launcher. 

"Please be loaded and easy to use, please be loaded and easy to use," you whispered as you opened the case as silently as you possibly could. 

Thank fuck, it was loaded and looked easy enough to use. 

But goddamn was it heavy. You crept around to the edge of the truck, hauled the beast up to your shoulder, pointed in the general direction of the motorcycle brigade, and prayed. 

It kicked like a son of a bitch, and you had a feeling your shoulder was going to be sore for awhile. Overall, though, you thought maybe this was your new favorite toy on the planet. 

Bike parts rained down as you returned up front, and Sasha and Abraham joined your brother in staring at you. You shrugged. 

"Can we go? I've got a man and a baby at home to check on. Plus, Merle's probably doing something stupid right now." 

"I dunno, sis," Daryl muttered, taking the grenade launcher from you gingerly, like you might fire it at him. "Think maybe ya just used up all the Dixon share of stupid. What the hell?" 

"I just saved your ass, that's what the hell. Abraham, load that bitch up again. Sasha, see if there's any surviving guns, and let's go, damn it," you ordered, glaring at your brother. 

He gestured to you. "He make ya bleed?" 

"What?" you raised your hand to the cheek that had gotten scraped pretty badly when the bike wrecked and came away with fresh blood. "Shit. I have no idea." 

Daryl grunted, stepping over to investigate. "Don't look too bad. Gotta stop fuckin' with ya face or Walsh won't let ya out of his sight." He shot a disgusted look at the bike pieces as he wrenched open the door. "What a bunch of assholes." 

It hit full dark and you turned into a raging bitch. Sasha and Abraham studiously avoided looking at either you or Daryl as you bickered like- well, like siblings. About the time you hit grade-school level name calling and demanded he pull over so you could drive (for about the twenty-seventh time), the headlights swept Alexandria and your heart stopped. 

"Oh, fucking hell," you muttered. 

The clock tower had fallen, part of the wall caved in, and walkers wandered in and out and around the place. 

"Back half is inside now," Abraham said flatly. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, looks like we got some work to do." 

"Hit the roof, guys," you said slowly. "From there we can get to the lookout ledge and down to open the gate. What the hell happened?" 

Daryl shook his head as Sasha opened the door. "Hell if I know. Be careful." 

"Please," you mumbled. You'd fired a rocket launcher earlier, damn it. 

Maggie screamed for Glenn, and your only clear thought was 'hell no'. Daryl eased the truck closer and you were the first to take a leap across the distance to the walkway, Maggie's desperation sending your adrenaline into overdrive. 

You were not losing Glenn Rhee, goddamn it. 

The sheer number of walkers you could see swarming him- still fighting, badass that he was- damn near put you over the edge into pure panic over everyone else. How the fuck had this happened? Where was everyone? Were Maggie, Glenn, and Enid the only ones left alive? Holy shit, you needed answers. 

Sasha had found a rifle and a handgun that had survived the rocket launcher's blast, and you opened fire with her and Abraham, cutting down the walkers converging on Glenn in a matter of moments. When silence fell as the last dead asshole dropped, Glenn shoved back to his feet and looked around wildly. 

"Can you get the gate?" Abraham yelled down, and you tried not to laugh when he positively beamed at Glenn's confused expression. "Appreciate it, pal." 

"God, you're a smartass," you informed him. 

He turned that slightly manic smile your way and saluted lazily. "That I am, darlin', that I am." 

"You're also an idiot," Sasha muttered. 

You slung the rifle over your shoulder and turned to Maggie and Enid. They both looked as utterly shocked as Glenn did, and you caught Maggie's eye as she ran a hand over her face and her lips moved soundlessly. "Hey, Maggie. Seen Shane? Or a one-handed asshole?" 

Maggie started laughing, a little too wildly, and you wondered just how close everyone's calls had been today. 

You vaulted off the truck to check in with Glenn and Daryl while the other two collected Maggie and Enid. Glenn climbed into the cab and you hopped up onto the ledge to lean in the open window on Daryl's side. 

"What the hell happened?" Daryl asked as soon as Glenn was in. 

"I don't know. I just got back. I was gonna ask you." 

Blood splashed Glenn's face and shirt liberally, but it all seemed to belong to the walkers and not to him. "You just got back? What the hell?" 

"Had some problems," he snapped, looking irritated. "What about you?" 

You and Daryl glanced at each other and you shrugged. "Same." 

"We can- we can lead some of them away, but they're scattered," Glenn said, making a clear choice to ignore you. Which was fine; there was work to be done still. 

"Naw, we gotta get 'em all together," Daryl disagreed. 

"And luckily, we're in a fuel truck and I've found my new favorite toy," you said brightly. "Get your wife in the cab and let's go. I've got a man to find. He's doing something dumbly heroic right now, I can feel it." 

Daryl rolled his eyes and thumped on the roof of the truck. 

The lot of you wouldn't all fit in the cab, so you looped your arm around the mirror and hung onto the door while Daryl drove toward the pond. As soon as you got close, you and Abraham- who'd copied you on the passenger side- dropped down and started stabbing at dead dudes. When the truck was in place and Daryl opened the valve, you dropped back and slid the grenade launcher's box free. 

"Ok, baby, let's do it again," you muttered. 

Daryl came around and frowned at you, but you were already climbing up on top of the cab. "Let's go! Back in the truck!" he called to the others, who'd been on walker duty while the two of you got set up. 

Abraham pulled the truck forward enough that the blast wouldn't hit you, and you shot your brother a grin. "This bitch is fun," you informed him. 

"Yeah, and you ain't shootin' it again," he said, grabbing it from your hands. 

You tried to hold on, but he got it from you, and you pouted at him. "Why the fuck not?" 

"Cause." He tossed hair from his eyes and set it up to his shoulder, taking aim. "Ya fuckin' shoulder's purple, sis. You fire it again, you'll break somethin'. It's my turn." 

Your shoulder did hurt from the kickback, you thought, but that felt like a severe overstatement on his part. "You just want to play with my toy." 

He pulled the trigger and the pond went up in flames, painting the world and the two of you in gruesome red and black contrast. You stared in silence for a minute, Daryl looking a little shocked, before he glanced at you. Your lips twitched at his expression, and he flashed a smile in response. 

"Shit, sis. 'Course I wanted to play with it. Holy fuck," he muttered. 

You laughed as the herd streamed around the truck, a shambling river of undead moths drawn to the flames. 

"Darrie," you said slowly. Walkers continued to stumble in, and you chewed on your thumbnail as you stared down at them. "What if-" 

"Naw," he interrupted, and something in his tone had you wrenching your eyes from the fire to him. "Look." 

You turned at his nod and instant relief washed over you like someone had dumped a bucket of water on your head. "Oh, thank god." 

You and Daryl vaulted down from the truck, the others piling out of the cab to take on the walkers hand-to-hand. Up the street, making their way toward you at the back of the herd, were your people. You'd caught sight of Rick and his axe, Shane at his back, leading the tip of the spear, with Michonne and Merle to one side and Rosita and Carol to the other, all of them hacking and slashing and bashing their way forward. 

You emptied the rifle, used it like a baseball bat a couple of times, and chucked it aside to go for your machete when you had a chance. It didn't take long after that before there were no more dead standing around and you could shove your hair back from your face and take a deep breath. 

"Lil sister!" Merle sounded high as a fucking kite. For about two seconds, you were genuinely wondering what the hell he could have gotten into, but he scooped you up into a one-handed bear hug, spinning around with a raucous laugh. 

When you were deposited back onto your feet, you frowned and scanned him, but all the blood seemed to belong to the dead. "Merle, what's-"

"Slugger!" 

Your worries over Merle possibly being on the sauce again flew right out of your head at the way Shane sounded. You turned, reaching for Merle's hand for support, because that was the voice Shane got when things had gone to shit and he was blaming himself. That voice brought back his grim eyes over a glass of straight whiskey, tears on his cheeks as he claimed Rick was dead and it was all his fault, and a bullet you pulled from his pocket after finally finding him again. 

He looked like shit, you thought critically. "What happened?" 

He shook his head, reaching for you without ever really meeting your eyes. Even as he clung to you, you thought about a porch railing on the quiet farm and him telling you he was a monster because he'd killed Otis. He leaned his face into your shoulder and didn't say a word, and you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair only to realize he'd shaved it all off again. 

Your heart pounded with a fresh fear so bad your hands shook. "Shane, what's wrong? Shane." 

He held on tighter, and it was Rick who answered, a demon from one of the circles of hell in the glowing firelight and his face coated in blood and guts and brains. "We have to get back. Carl."


	63. Lie #63: "Wish I Could Say You Were Right, But You're Not." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
character injury (canon)

The river of dead littered Alexandria's streets. The wall was still broken, and more could come. There was cleanup to be done, and people to be reassured, and endless, endless tasks ahead of them. 

Shane held Ace's hand and stared at the infirmary wall and didn't do any of that. Far as he knew, no one else was doing any of it either. He'd need to change that, or someone would. 

He couldn't think. Couldn't clear his mind of anything but the driving, relentless, brutal waves of drowning horror. He was sinking fast in them, and there was nothing he could do. He'd been here before, after all. 

He had the illogical thought that this had happened because he'd shaved his head again. 

"Hey. Hero," Ace said softly. He could hear the worry in her voice, and he leaned into her palm when she touched his face. "He's going to be ok. He is." 

"How's your face?" Shane asked. 

He looked at her when she sighed, meeting her eyes even though it was hard. Even though it hurt. She had a couple of neat stitches in her cheek, definitely not Dixon work, and he'd vaguely heard Rosita say she didn't think it would scar. Wouldn't matter if it did; Ace had plenty of scars and was still beautiful, and nothing could change that. She had some gravel and shit in the road rash on her side, and Daryl was carefully cleaning it now that he'd been bullied into taking care of his own injuries. 

"My face, as with the rest of me, is fine. Dickhead, please," Ace whispered. "Talk to me." 

"Yeah, Walsh. Let it out, man," Daryl agreed, and Shane wanted to be pissed cause being pissed at one of Ace's brothers was usually easy. 

He didn't have the energy for it. "I fucked up. I fucked up, and Carl- Carl got shot in the damn face. What's there to talk about?" 

He saw them glance at each other while he shoved a hand through hair that wasn't there, and he felt the first stirrings of anger churning. He welcomed it, an old friend that powered him through and got shit done. 

God knew there was enough shit to get done, even if god had fucking abandoned all of them. 

"Someone's gotta get shit started out there," he declared. He dropped Ace's hand and leaned in to kiss her, pulling away when she tried to keep him close. If he lingered, if he fell into her, he was going to break down, and Rick didn't need him to do that. Rick needed Shane to be pissed and handle shit for him, so Rick could do his damn job and sit right where he was- at Carl's side. "I'm gonna check on them, then I'll get started on cleanup with whoever's mobile. Dixon, take your sister home. Both of you get some damn sleep." 

"Shane-" 

"Naw, I'm stayin'," Daryl muttered. He grabbed Ace's arm when she reached for Shane, and Shane rolled his eyes. "I'll help with clean up. Ace too. He's one of ours. None of us is leavin', man." 

He swallowed hard, kissed Ace again, and headed toward the room in the back and the sight he'd never wanted to see again. 

Carl lay where Shane had seen him when they staggered in bloody but victorious, which was a damn sight better than where he'd been when Shane had thrown open the door to the infirmary and walked toward the dead. He shuddered away from the memory, trying not to think about any of it, about what the hell had gone so horribly wrong out there, as he closed the door quietly behind him and set a hand on Rick's shoulder. 

"No change," Rick whispered. "He's- he's unconscious, but Denise said that's a good thing." 

Shane's heart hurt. He rubbed a hand over the back of his head and sat down heavily in the chair beside Rick. "We've been here before, brother." 

The sound Rick made could only loosely be described as a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, we have." 

They sat in silence, Shane watching Carl's face, watching his chest rise and fall. Kid was pale, but Shane clung to the belief that he didn't look as bad as he had the last time Shane had seen him unconscious in a bed, back on Hershel's farm. 

He shifted and rubbed his face, driving back the screaming, the echo of the gunshot, the flash of Michonne's sword and the gut-wrenching fear that Shane had just fucked up and was about to see Rick fall again. He'd fucked up, sure, but it wasn't Rick who'd taken the bullet this time. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have- I should have-" 

"Shut up, Shane." 

He looked at Rick, and Rick was still staring at Carl, but he shook his head like he knew what Shane was thinking. "This? This isn't on you. This isn't on anyone." 

Shane wished like hell that was the truth. "It was my gun." 

"So?" Rick did look at him, then, the blank terror Shane had seen last time Rick met his eyes somehow gone. "You dropped it saving my son. You didn't do this. I don't blame you. Not for anything, Shane. Not anymore." 

Shane scoffed. "Anything? Shit, man. That covers a lot of territory." 

"Yeah. It does." Rick sighed. "I woke up in a hospital bed, alone and half-dead anyway, and the world had- the world had gone to shit." 

Guilt was sharper than Michonne's sword, slicing him in two. "I'm sorry." 

"Shut up, 22. I know." Rick grabbed Shane's shoulder without taking his eyes from Carl. "Point is, I woke up and I thought the world was over. I was close, but it isn't. Decisions- decisions get made. Things happen. Some people get walls, some people get hard choices. You, me, all of us- we got hard choices. Not saying you made all the right ones, but I- I haven't either." 

Shane looked away and set his hand on Carl's leg, thinking over some of those choices. No, he hadn't made all the right ones. He hadn't made the right choice when he'd dropped the gun he could have sworn was empty and grabbed for Carl, wrapping himself around the kid while Rick hacked Jessie's hand off Carl's arm. Shane had only thought that he had to keep walkers from jumping ship from Jessie to Carl, and-

"I was wrong," Rick whispered. "I thought after living behind these walls for so long, they couldn't learn. But today… I saw what they could do. What we could do, if we work together." 

He had led the way. As soon as they'd finished their mad run, Rick carrying Carl and Shane and Michonne slaughtering everything that tried to get in their path until they reached the infirmary, Shane had made sure Carl was being taken care of. He'd made sure Denise had what she needed, and he heard them taking about the light drawing more. 

Fine, it could draw them. Shane would kill them. Whatever the good doctor wanted, the good doctor got. 

He'd thrown open the door and cast himself into the fray, ready to lay down his life for the kid in the bed, to give him a fighting chance. Rick had followed him, and it had been the two of them against the sea of dead. 

Until it wasn't just them. Others had left the infirmary first, then more and more people had come out of their safe havens, and against all logic, they'd been beating them back. They'd been taking on that endless swarm and they'd been winning. 

"We'll rebuild the walls," Rick continued. Shane didn't know how he was thinking about the future right now, not with his son on this bed, bandage around his head. "We'll expand the walls. There will be more. There's gotta be more. Everything Deanna was talking about is possible." 

Shane didn't know that he agreed with that, but he stayed silent. Rick wasn't really talking to him anyway. 

"When we were out there, with them. When it was over, when I knew we had this place again… I had this feeling," Rick said slowly. "It took me awhile to remember what it was, because I haven't felt it since before I woke up in that hospital bed." 

Shane felt Rick's hand tighten on his shoulder as he looked at his son. 

"I want to show you the new world, Carl. I want to make it a reality for you. Your uncle and I, we'll do anything for you, son. Please, Carl… let us do that. Let me show you. Please, son, please, don't- don't die." 

Shane shoved to his feet, unable to stay still at that. He couldn't hear Rick's voice in this moment, pleading with his kid in a bed for a second time since the world ended. For a second time, and it was Shane's fault. 

It was always Shane's fault, and he knew it. Shane was the stain on the Grimes' family, their curse. He didn't know if he'd brought destruction with him when he'd clung so hard to Rick after his sister died and his father walked away, or if he'd just somehow grown it over time, but he'd brought them all low one way or another. 

He hadn't seen the third man, and Rick got shot. He'd thought Rick was dead, and left him to wake up to a world full of horror all alone, a world that killed any spark of hope even when he realized Shane had kept his family alive for him. Always for him, even if what Shane had done with Lori didn't make it seem like it. He'd broken Rick and Lori's marriage by what had happened between Lori and him, and he'd been so busy being angry over it he hadn't seen Otis, just the deer. And Carl had gotten shot once. Then he'd gotten Lori killed delivering his baby, costing Rick his wife and Carl his mom, and now- now he'd dropped his gun, and Ron had picked it up and aimed it at Rick. 

And when Michonne ran him through, he'd squeezed the trigger and he'd hit Carl instead. And the man Shane loved like a brother was begging his son not die. 

"Shane. Shane!" 

He whirled at the change in Rick's tone, hand going for a weapon like there was some new threat he could fight, because that was all he was good for. Fighting and blood on his hands and- 

Rick's eyes were wild, but they were wild with that emotion he'd been unable to identify out in that mess. They were full of hope. 

"His hand. Shane, he moved his hand!" 

Shane looked down at where Rick had held Carl's limp hand in his and holy shit. He ran a shaking hand of his own over his face and collapsed into the chair next to Rick, tears streaming down his face. 

Carl's fingers were wrapped around Rick's. 

Machines beeped steadily, and this time the person he cared about was hooked up to them. He watched the readout showing his best friend's pulse, right there over the bouquet the department had ordered and they'd all asked Shane to deliver. Shane, since he was Rick's partner and best friend. 

Shane, who'd gotten Rick shot in the first place. 

He'd brought it. He'd brought it and smiled and showed it to him, blathering on about how their dispatch woman had said it was special. Outside of Rick's room, he'd stalked straight into the closest bathroom and punched the wall. Twice. 

He sighed and shifted, looking at his brother's face. Rick's eyes were closed, and he looked like he was sleeping. 

"If that's the case, it's time to get your lazy ass up, brother," he muttered, resting his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his hair. "Shit. Lor and Carl, they're- they're holding it together, but they're scared, man. We all are. You've been out for awhile. Doctors say its not that surprising, but I- I don't know."

He shoved upright to pace to the window. "Got a decent view. Ain't a bad room. I need- I need you to open your eyes and tell me the view don't matter. I need you to open your eyes and tell me to fuck off for getting you shot, man. Shit, I just need you to open your eyes. I need a miracle, brother. I'm trying to make my own, but you're the miracle worker. Always have been." 

He leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. Jesus, he missed his friend. Both of them. He couldn't- he couldn't take it. 

But he had to. 

He opened his eyes again, pasted on a smile, and walked back to Rick's bed. He grabbed Rick's hand and gave it a squeeze, making his voice cheerful, just in case Rick could hear him after all. "I've got to go. Lori will be here soon, I'm sure. I'm sleeping at your place tonight, after work. You hurry up and wake up, man. I'm so sick of Leon it ain't funny. Aight, well. I'm off to get Carl and haul him to school. I'll see you later, brother." 

Rick didn't say anything, and Shane felt the smile slide from his face as he turned and left the room.

They made him go home a few hours later. Three Dixons teamed up, with Carol hovering amused in the background, and Shane knew he was defeated. He finished giving instructions for what part of clean-up to do next and what to worry about later, and let them herd him home. Truth was, he was exhausted, and nothing sounded better than a shower and spending the next few hours dead to the world, with Slugger in his arms. 

They had some other ideas. 

Ace cooked, bumping Merle out of the kitchen with steely eyes when he started to reach for his homebrew. Merle, Daryl, and Shane all crowded around the counter in various states of exhausted, watching while she did some Ace version of Carl's magic. Meat in a pan, and Shane didn't even know what it was, but it was sizzling and she dumped some shit on it, and water bubbled in a pot. 

Then she reached into Merle's cabinet, grabbed four glasses, and poured them all shots. Shane started laughing as plates and drinks landed in front of each of them, breaking the silence that had descended when they came in. "Shit, Slugger. You cook at the Lullaby too and I didn't know it?" 

"Shut up, Dickhead," she muttered, but she was smiling as she leaned on the bar across from him and scooped up her first bite. "Needs sauce, but it's food." 

Merle and Daryl both grunted, already deep in their plates, and Shane shot a disgusted look to either side of him. "And y'all call me a pig. Thank your sister, damn it." 

"Yes, Ma." Merle waved his fork in Ace's direction. "Good, sis. Thanks. Who's gonna start fillin' ole Merle in on what the hell ya been up to?" 

"Filling in Merle? Shit," Ace muttered. "What about you guys filling us in? The tower? The herd? Carl? What the hell!" 

Shane frowned down into his plate, surprised to find he had plowed his way through more of it than he'd thought. He'd been hungry. He lifted the glass and sniffed suspiciously, then took a cautious sip. 

His eyes burned and he coughed immediately, and all three of those goddamn Dixons cracked up. He flipped them all off, and when he could breathe again, he glared at Merle. "I'm pretty sure that's just fucking drain cleaner, man. What the hell?" 

Merle shrugged. "Told ya it was shit. Who's gonna start? Story time, boys and girls. I'm thinkin' Ace and Daryl should go first." 

Ace and Daryl did, and by the time they were done Shane was pissed all over again and the four of them had cleaned up the kitchen, knocked back two shots of Merle's piss-brew, and poured a third. They'd moved into the living room, collapsing into their usual spots, and Shane was surprised to find out they had usual spots. 

Since Ace was curling against him on the couch, Shane didn't mind it at all. Daryl dropped into the floor, leaning back against the couch close enough that Ace could reach out and pull his hair, which she'd done already. Merle took the chair, sprawling in it with his feet stretched toward the fireplace they'd all been too damn exhausted to light. 

"Can't believe you let those fuckers live," Shane muttered. "Why the hell did you give him a gun?" 

Ace sighed. "Look, I felt the same way at the time, but you didn't see the other guys. Trust me, idiots that those two are, they were the better option at the time." 

Merle snorted. "Sounds like there's a whole ton of folks out there as needs to die. Them bikers are a shame." 

"Excuse you. Those bikers were ready to kill us all," Ace muttered. "I saved all y'all's asses blowing them up. Speaking of which. What the hell?" 

Shane laughed and then groaned, tangling his fingers all up in her hair. "Where do we even start?" 

"Big ass horn goin' off seems good," Daryl commented dryly. 

"Yeah." Shane sipped homebrew and winced as it burned on the way down, but his eyes didn't water this time. He figured that wasn't necessarily a good thing. "So there was a bit of trouble." 

It was easy enough to catch them up through the tower falling, the walkers swarming in. Shane and Merle had traded back and forth on their adventures, and he looked over at Ace's brother, asking the question without asking. 

Merle rolled his eyes. "Picked up that idiot scientist about two seconds before he became a walker's chew toy. He's the one was callin' into the radio, sis. Hustled him off with Tara an' Rosita, and for the most part we's just hunkered down. Then we made a break for the good doc's office, and that's when ya brought the kid in." 

Shane shivered again. He knocked back the rest of the moonshine in his cup, shifted so Ace was in his lap and he could wrap both arms around her, and got ready to tell them all how badly he'd fucked up. 

"Hero, I can already tell you, whatever happened to Carl wasn't your fault," Ace whispered, her hand curling on the back of his neck and her tone so serious. 

He shook his head and sighed. "Wish I could say you were right, but you're not. It was my fault. He got shot in the face with my damn gun." 

"Why don't ya tell us what happened and we'll be the judge of who's fuckin' fault it was?" Daryl put in mildly, and Shane scowled down at the top of his head. "I can feel that. I'd flip ya off, but I'm tired, man. Unless ya grabbed ya gun and shot the kid yourself, Imma say it probably ain't your fault." 

Merle's guffaw wasn't really laughter, but it was loud. "What my lil brother said, pig. Spill it. I'd like to know the story there myself. Don't take kindly to people hurtin' kids." 

"Yeah, well, the kid who did it is dead. A whole family is dead," Shane muttered. "It was Ron." 

"Shit. Knew that boy was trouble," Merle mumbled. 

Ace leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek, not saying a word. Shane knew she got it; hell, he knew she got it better now than he had back when he'd drown his sorrows across the bar or on her couch. She knew how rough the kid cases were. 

And this? This was Rick's kid. Shane's nephew. And he'd damn near lost him. It was only the fact that he'd grabbed Rick's hand that kept Shane from heading back over there right now.

"We took down a couple of the dead, slathered guts all over ourselves. It was the only way out, and shit, man, it was a risk. We had Sam, and Judy. The preacher, Ron, Jessie- they'd never been through something like this before. We didn't have any option, though. Had to go." He shivered, tightened his grip on Ace. Her hand ran soothingly over his arm, and he wished like hell he didn't have to tell her all this. 

"It went better than I'd have thought. Carl had Judith, under this poncho covered in guts, and she was doing- my baby girl's a trooper. She was doing great. Not a peep. Sam wasn't doing so well, and Rick and I, we stopped to have us a chat. Thing was, we were planning on going to the armory, getting the flares, leading them out. But we'd have been fighting against the herd, and Rick said, make our way to the gate. Get out, get the cars. That was the end goal anyway." 

"Makes sense," Merle agreed with a shrug. "But ya had the kids and the civilians." 

"Yeah," Shane agreed. "The preacher took Judy off to the church. Hardest thing I've ever done, sending my baby girl off with that bastard. But he got her there." 

Shane sighed and ran a hand over his head, scratching at his scalp. "Jessie tried to send Sam, but the kid wouldn't go without her, and we needed all the hands we could get. So they all came too. And he couldn't cut it. We were doing good, and then he started calling her name. Everyone was linked together, see, like a goddamn daisy chain, so we didn't get separated by the dead. Kid starts yelling 'mom' and- well, it was quick." 

Ace made a tiny, sad sound in the back of her throat and her hand tightened on Shane's arm. "Shit." 

"Hell, Walsh," Daryl muttered. "I'm sorry, man." 

"Gets worse," Shane said flatly. "Jessie started crying. She had a hold of Sam's hand on one side, Carl's on the other, and-"

Merle swore, hard and vicious, and Ace's eyes were closed. 

"Bout sums it up. Thing was, she didn't let go of Carl's hand. Carl was trying to get free, and he couldn't. I popped a couple walkers, thought my gun was empty…" He trailed off, closing his eyes. "It's my fault." 

"Shane," Ace whispered, her hand closing over his. 

"Stop, Slugger. It is. I tossed my gun aside and grabbed Carl. Rick was- Rick was chopping off Jessie's hand with that damn axe of his, and all I could think was someone had to get between Carl and the dead. Someone had to, and that someone was me. Sorry, sweetheart. But I'd die for that kid. I'd die for that kid, and yet-" He laughed harshly. "Ron got my gun. Rick got Carl free, we turn around, and Ron's holding it on Rick. Walkers all around, and this kid says 'this is your fault'. Michonne- Michonne ran him through, and there I was thinking 'its empty; it's empty, it's fine' and the shot goes off." 

Ace's eyes were wide and her face had gone pale. Merle and Daryl sat silent and grim as Shane drew in a shuddering breath and pushed it all out. 

"We thought he'd missed, and then Carl- Carl turns and says "Dad?" Just that, just 'Dad', and then he falls. Rick scoops him up, and I didn't think. Just started hacking my way through the dead, and we ran. I've been there before, sweetheart, running with Rick while Carl's bleeding. Don't ever want to do that again, but it keeps happening." 

"Shane," Ace said firmly, and he didn't look in her eyes. "Shane, damn it, look at me." 

He turned, reluctantly, and like he had on the porch outside Hershel's house, he didn't find what he expected. She touched his cheek, eyes shining. "It's not your fault. And he's going to be ok." 

Shane nodded. "Sure he is. But Slugger, that was my gun, and that ain't something I'm gonna forget any time soon." 

He woke up the next morning surrounded by her, like he'd fallen asleep. Her head on his chest and her hair all in his face, one leg hooked up over his with her toes digging into his knee and her fingers splayed over his heart. She was still asleep and Shane lay there for a moment, holding her and breathing her in. 

She'd joined him in the shower, taking their time in the hazy steam to check each other over carefully for injuries. She'd yelled at him about opening the cut on his chest so badly; he'd fussed over her cheek and the road rash up her side. She'd leaned back against him as he held her under the water, needing her close. 

By the time they'd gotten out, the water ran cold. They found other ways to warm up again, skin on skin in the dark, her voice a breathless whisper and her name falling from his lips over and over. 

He didn't know what time it was, but the sun was shining. The sun was shining, he could hear birds singing, and Merle Dixon's laughter echoed from down the hall. 

Lord knew there was a lot to be done. The wall needed to be rebuilt, the town cleaned up. Dead needed to be burned and buried, and he missed his baby girl. She was staying with them tonight, he thought. He needed to check on Carl and Rick. 

Slugger's fingers curled and she sighed in her sleep. Shane tightened his arms around her and let his eyes close again. 

They'd made it through another crisis. They were alive. 

"Shane! Shit, 22, get your ass out here! Carl woke up!" 

Slugger sat up, shoving a hand through her hair and looking around wildly when Rick pounded on their door and yelled. Shane was already rolling to his feet. 

Thank god.


	64. Lie #64: "Raw Squirrel For You If You Don't Start Cleaning Shit Up Around Here." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

The wall got fixed. The dead got buried or burned. Carl lost the eye and had a bandage wrapped around his face, but honestly he looked like one badass pirate and you told him so. That made him smile. 

The expansion was begun. Maggie planted crops, and fretted over crops, and you fretted over Maggie working too damn hard. She and Glenn were going to have a baby, and you were delighted and whole-scale terrified. Lori was fresh in your mind, and you figured she was fresh in Rick and Shane’s too. 

Supply runs resumed, and someone struck gold. A bag full of paint was delivered to your door by a beaming Tara, and-

Well. The galaxy hands were done. So was a mural on the wall by the gate, a blazing sunrise over Alexandria you’d done from the quick sketch you’d made in the clock tower. You may or may not have been taking commissions. You may or may not have started squinting at the walls inside your place. 

One week stretched to two and rolled into three without incident, and it seemed like things had settled down again. 

"Goddamn it Merle!" You yelled from the kitchen, loud enough to wake the dead, and promptly winced. Wait, no, Judy was with Carl and Michonne today, at Rick's. You could yell all you wanted. "Why the fuck are there four entire fucking squirrels sitting on a plate in the fridge?" 

"Ain't entire squirrel; they's been skinned and gutted." 

His response was faint but clear, probably coming from his room or from the attic he liked to pretend he wasn't turning into a full-on distillery. It also had you rolling your eyes and muttering under your breath that you were going to skin and gut him, as you grabbed the plate and the casserole dish behind it that you'd been going for. It was your turn to make dinner, and you'd absolutely, one hundred percent cheated. Carol had made something along the lines of six billion casseroles the day before, and you'd begged her for one. You were mid-creation over at Denise's place, working on a wall-sized recreation of some old-school anatomy diagram that Tara had asked you to do for her. 

She and Denise were fucking cute, you thought as you popped the casserole into the preheated oven. And since you had paint all over your hands and up in your hair and you hadn't even taken off your shoes yet, you'd been correct to cheat on dinner. 

Didn't excuse the fucking squirrels. You grabbed a Tupperware- with a goddamn lid- and dumped them in. You considered bitching at your brother about it some more, decided to take the high road, and changed your mind all before you slapped the lid back on. "I don't care if they've been named and coated in gold, they belong in a container with a fucking lid! Damn it, I am not the maid! I refuse to clean up after you just because I have tits!" 

"Ain't about the tits, sugar britches, and never has been. Couldn't get that through her damn head even when we was kids." Merle's voice was conversational and coming closer, and you eyed the liquor cabinet speculatively. Merle's second round was in there, and it was slightly better than the first shit, but not by much. However, Tara had also brought over a half a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black when she delivered your paints, and you were contemplating dipping into that shit. 

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Shane's voice was cautiously amused. "So, if it's not that she's a girl, what is it, then? Cause, man, you are a slob." 

"'Course I'm a slob. I'm s'possed to be a slob." 

"Says who?" You crossed your arms and glared, and Shane barely contained a smile, his eyes lingering on the paint in your hair. You rolled your eyes at him and focused on your brother. "I know damn sure I've been telling you to clean the fuck up since you taught me how to use a broom." 

"Exactly! Ya do the cleanin' up 'cause you's the little sibling. Ain't cause ya a girl. I make Darylina clean up after me too." 

Shane had the audacity to laugh and your eyes narrowed on him. "Oh, laugh it up, Dickhead. See how you feel about it when you can't find clean bottles or clothes for Judy and you're tripping on her toys every time you take a step. Or when the toilets start turning green, or there's dried blood crusted on the damn kitchen counters-" Your voice was rising as you turned your glare on Merle. 

Your brother bit his lip and glanced away, and you smiled. "That's right, be ashamed. And put a damn lid on the meat!" 

"Yeah, yeah," Merle muttered. "What's for dinner?" 

You kissed Shane's cheek as you passed them both, and shot Merle a glare over your shoulder. "Raw squirrel for you if you don't start cleaning shit up around here. I'm getting a shower. Dinner in thirty, I don't care if Daryl's back or not. Hey, Dickhead, you coming?" 

"What? Oh," Shane mumbled. "Fuck yeah, I am."

Merle groaned loudly as Shane followed right on your heels. 

Daryl still wasn't back when you and Shane came downstairs, still damp and laughing. Also, it had definitely been longer than thirty minutes. 

"Took ya casserole out before it burned," Merle said dryly. "I's about to come yell at ya." 

You felt slightly guilty, but then you remembered the squirrels. And the knife cleaning kit you'd put away this morning, and the dishes you'd washed. Yeah, you weren't guilty after all. 

"Sorry," Shane apologized, but he sure as hell didn't sound it. "Thanks, man." 

You took the plate Shane handed you and settled into a chair at the bar, where the four of you usually ended up eating. "Where the hell is your brother?" 

"He probably done found hisself some trouble out there with Shane's wife. Don't get ya panties in a twist. Michonne dropped by, said they ain't back yet," Merle answered around a mouthful. 

"First off, enough with the wife commentary; that one's getting old. Secondly, the last time Daryl got himself into some trouble out there was with me and a grenade launcher was involved," you muttered, frowning at the door like it would open because you were looking at it. "Also, we need to talk about Michonne." 

"As I say every damn time ya try, naw, we fuckin' don't," Merle shot back. 

"Please," Shane said with a shudder. "I don't want to talk about your brother's sex life. Though it was about fucking time they hooked up. Couldn't stand the sexual tension. Now if she and Rick will just get their heads out of their asses- don't get in the way of that, or I'll fight you." He stabbed his fork in Merle's direction. 

"Shane!" you snapped, annoyed. It wasn't like you didn't agree about Michonne and Rick, but that was your brother, damn it, and if Michonne and Rick did get together- 

"Chill, baby sis." Merle sounded completely unbothered, and looked fucking amused. "The samurai and I's just fuckbuddies. She wants to get with ol' Officer Friendly, she's more'n welcome. Ain't gonna bother me none. Don't hardly like each other anyway." 

Your eyes narrowed at him, but the door slammed open and you turned as Daryl stalked in muttering. The three of you exchanged looks as he went by you without a word, heading toward the stairs. 

"Darrie?" 

"Don't fuckin' call me Darrie, damn it! I'll be right back. Pour me a fuckin' drink!" he called over his shoulder, stomping on every stair as he went. 

You sighed and got up, heading for the cabinet. Looks like you'd be breaking out that Johnnie Walker after all. 

"Shit day. Complete bullshit day," Daryl muttered, taking the drink you held out to him when he came back in the room. He leaned over and kissed your cheek and you blinked in surprise. "Thanks. Sorry." 

You waved that off and nodded at the full plate in front of him. "Eat. What the hell happened? Everything ok? You're late." 

"Shit, let the man breathe," Merle commanded. "He's fine, ain't ya got eyeballs?" 

You glared at Merle as Daryl shoved a bite in his mouth and knocked back half the drink in one go. "Fuck you; I was worried." 

"M'fine," he mumbled. "Had a- shit. Got a prisoner in the basement below the pantry, an' it's his fuckin' fault we got nothin' to show for an entire fuckin' day. Whole ass truck, full of cans and shit, in the water. Fucking ninja fucker. Jesus my ass." 

You blinked a couple times, frowned as he stuffed more food in his mouth like that was all the explanation you needed, and looked at Shane. 

Dickhead looked just as lost as you were. "It's your brother. You translate," he said with a shrug. 

Daryl flipped him off. You sighed. 

"Darrie, please. What the hell do you mean there's a prisoner? That feels like the most important part of all that." 

Daryl sat back and waved his fork expressively. "Rick and I, we'd found this whole fuckin' truckload of supplies. Made a stop, and this- this fuckin' asshole in a ninja coat comes outta nowhere, says he's runnin' from walkers. He leaves, we hear what sounds like gunshots, and it's actually firecrackers in a trashcan, and this motherfucker steals the damn truck." 

Merle grunted. "Firecrackers in a trashcan's a classic. Shoulda known the difference, lil bro. Didn't I teach ya nothin'?" 

"Fuck you," Daryl said blandly. "We chased the fucker, and he got a flat so's we caught up to him. Tied him up, took the truck back. Sonnuva bitch managed to get on the goddamn roof." 

He what? You blinked and bit at your lip to stop yourself from laughing. Daryl looked so fucking disgusted, but for some reason, you found it hilarious. The idea of them chasing a guy down just to have him climb on their truck- 

Shit, Daryl had had the time of his life, and Rick probably had too. You'd bet good money on it, and from the way Darrie's eyes were dancing even behind the genuine anger, you'd have been right. 

"So I start to take this bastard on, and then there's the dead wandering around, and I'm fighting this little fuckin' ninja and he pulls my gun. I think 'shit', and he says 'duck' and shoots a walker over my fuckin' shoulder. But of course, of course, he manages to put the fuckin' truck in reverse, and it's rollin' toward the lake. I jumped out of the way, and the door knocks this motherfucker out as he tries to do the same, and the whole fuckin' truckload of supplies ends up sinking into the goddamn lake." 

Ok that wasn't so funny, you thought with a grimace. You lifted your glass and frowned, setting it back down without taking a sip. "Shit." 

Daryl knocked back the rest of the scotch and pointed at you. "Yeah. Anyway, we hauled him back. He's got friends somewhere; we'll talk to him in the mornin' when he wakes up. Too damn clean to not have a camp or some shit." 

You looked at Shane, and he shook his head. "Hell no, Slugger." 

"What?" you demanded. He didn't know what you'd been about to say. 

"No. You're not going to the basement tonight." 

Oh, shit, maybe he did know. You frowned, ready to protest. The ninja sounded interesting, and you wanted to get a look at him. "But-" 

"Walsh is right. Besides, he's fuckin' unconscious right now anyway," Daryl said with a shrug. "Calls himself Jesus. What the fuck. Hey, ya gonna drink that?" 

Yeah, that just made it better. You handed Daryl your glass and settled onto the couch without any more argument, but you were definitely going to meet this guy. They'd try to convince you not to until they were sure he wasn't dangerous, but you were going first thing in the morning. 

It was the most interesting thing to happen in almost a month. Frankly, you'd been getting bored.

The streetlight outside your bedroom was fucking blinding tonight. Between that and Daryl's goddamn snoring, you'd been tossing and turning for hours. You were over it. 

You gave up and sat up, glaring first at Daryl's lanky body sprawled over his bed and then at the light flickering unsteadily outside the window. "Fucking shithole," you muttered, but what else was new? 

You reached for the sketchbook on the edge of the desk, figuring if you were going to be awake, for whatever godforsaken reason, you might as well draw. That usually worked to put you back to sleep. You curled up, back against the window so the fucking streetlamp would light up the page, and let your mind empty as you stared at the clean sheet. 

You were going to get the fuck out of here, someday. Someday, you'd have your own place, and when you couldn't sleep you'd turn the lights up bright and music on loud and paint in the middle of the night. Or whatever, you thought restlessly. 

Your hand started moving, quick lines as you let yourself imagine what it'd be like to be free of this place. Free of Will, and hand me down clothes, and sharing a room with your brothers. Free of the Dixon stigma, if not the Dixon name. You actually liked the name. Just not the way it sounded sneered from other people's lips. 

You decided right then and there that you'd always be a Dixon. Not that it mattered, since Mark Anderson was hardly the love of your life, and to be honest you were thinking about breaking up with him. He was kind of a douche. Maybe after the party next weekend, you thought idly. It was nice to have someone to hang out with, after all. Someone who wasn't one of your brothers, whom you dearly loved but if Daryl didn't stop fucking snoring, you might smother him with a pillow. 

Your shoulders shook with silent laughter when he rolled over and started snoring louder. Damn it.

If you weren't going to sleep, you decided somewhere around three am, you'd paint. The moon was full tonight, full and huge in the sky, and you slipped downstairs in Shane's flannel to shove your feet into your boots and grab your bag from beside the door. 

Merle and Daryl had already started complaining about you getting to keep your art crap right inside the door, but you'd told them pleasantly that they could suck it. Shane had laughed like he was going to fall over, and Judith had started giggling along with him. Daryl muttered that it wasn't that funny, damn it, but they'd stopped gripping about it. 

You figured Shane would do some complaining of his own if he knew you were heading outside in just his flannel, but honestly. It was the middle of the fucking night. Who the hell was going to see? 

You went around the corner, toward Rick's, to work on the piece you were doing on that wall- a cheerful comic-style sun and a riot of stylized flowers, picked out by Judy from the handful of sketched ideas you'd placed on the floor in front of her for kicks- and slammed right into a moving shadow. 

"The fuck?" You dropped your bag and went for your gun, but- 

Holy shit. You froze, eyes wide, when you realized you'd come outside unarmed except for a bag of spray paint. Holy shit, that was sloppy, and you were about to pay for it. 

The shadow turned out to be a man in a leather duster, with long hair and pale eyes that seemed more amused than anything else visible over a bandanna tied around his face. He had frozen same as you, both hands up in the universal sign for "I'm not here to hurt you". 

Someone- it sounded like Abraham- shouted in the distance. You turned automatically, a fucking rookie move, and when you looked back the man in the duster was gone. 

"Oh, you've got to be shitting me," you muttered. "That's Darrie's ninja, isn't it? Goddamn it." 

"Pants," you muttered as you bolted back inside. "Or just a gun. Yeah, just a gun. Shane. Hey, Dickhead, wake up. We got a problem." 

He came awake hard, sitting up and reaching for the knife on his side table. You scowled. "Might want a gun, hero. Darrie's ninja got loose." 

"What?" 

You grabbed your gun and his, shoving his into his hands as he stood, catching up to your urgency if not what was going on. "The ninja. I just ran into him outside. Literally." 

Shane blinked at you. "Fuck." 

"Agreed." 

"Rick. Stay here." 

You shot him a look, already on your way to wake Daryl and Merle. "Please."


	65. Lie #65: "Found Something Interesting In Your Apartment One Time." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

Shane wasn't sure if the look in Ace's eyes was over the fucking ninja- who, goddamn, really did look like Jesus, didn't he? Shane was having flashbacks to Sunday mornings staring at that painting that was in every church in the South and wishing the preacher would hurry up so he and Rick could go home and watch the game- or over the sight of Rick and Michonne half-dressed at the top of their stairs when all four members of the Dixon-Walsh house, Glenn and Maggie, and Abraham had come busting through the front door. 

Carl had held the man at gunpoint, and Jesus- Jesus had been looking at some painting he'd taken off the wall, sitting on the top step without a damn care in the world. 

Ace left marks on his arm she'd grabbed it so hard, staring at the vaguely embarrassed faces of Rick and Michonne. 

Merle and Abraham had glanced at the sheer number of people in the room and decided they didn't both need to be there. A quick thrown game of rock paper scissors later, Merle shambled out with a peace sign and dragging his reluctant sister with him. 

"Pants, baby girl. Ya need some goddamn pants," he'd muttered. "Then I s'pose ya can come back and play, since I don't actually give enough shits to try an' stop ya." 

Shane had watched the ninja watch everyone with mild interest, and he suddenly got why Daryl had been so pissed off the night before. He was already infuriated by how calm the little shit was. And by the fact that he was fucking here, in Rick's house, with Carl and Judith. 

Daryl paced behind the ninja as the sun came up, and Shane sympathized. 

"So how'd you get out? Daryl said you were tied and under guard." 

Jesus' eyes darted to him from where he'd been studying Rick and ignoring Daryl. He smiled slightly, a bare uptick of his lips. "One guard can't cover two exists, or third floor windows. Knots untie and locks get picked. Entropy comes from order, right?" 

"Oh, you're a little shithead, aren't you?" 

Shane didn't bother to look up as Ace strolled back in and plopped down on his knee, propping her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. The ninja definitely smiled at her, and Shane ground his teeth together and tried not to be a jealous idiot. He'd been informed- a few times- that it wasn't a good look for him. 

"I've been accused of that a time or two," Jesus acknowledged. "Hi. You almost caught me. I'm Jesus." 

"I know. Sheer luck, honestly. So, what the fuck are you doing in Rick's house? I'm aware the question has probably already been asked, but straight answers would be good. Hey, anyone want a drink or something to eat?" Ace shoved up from his lap and disappeared into Rick's kitchen, and silence reigned. She sighed and Shane could almost hear the eye roll in her voice. "Honestly, people. He climbed out the third story window and picked some locks. If he wanted to hurt someone, he would have. He didn't." 

Shane rubbed a hand over his eyes and caught Daryl's annoyed expression as well. Shit, Dixon, she's your sister, Shane thought at him. Should be used to it by now. "Slugger, get back in here and sit down. This ain't the Lullaby." 

"Don't tell me what to do, Dickhead," she shot back pleasantly. She reappeared, however, with a plate full of Carol's granola bars in one hand and bottles of water jammed under the other arm. "I'm hungry. At least, I think I am. We'll see." 

Carl grabbed the plate from her automatically, and Shane sighed as she dropped waters in front of everyone as she rounded the table. She sat back down on his lap, grabbed a granola bar from the plate, and waved in Jesus' direction. "Talk," she demanded as she took a bite. "Hmm. Yeah, hungry." 

Jesus turned from her regarding her with faint amusement to Rick, settling back in his chair. "I checked out your arsenal. Haven't seen anything like that in a long time. You're well equipped, but your provisions are low." 

Shane had tensed- along with everyone around the table except maybe Ace- at the arsenal comment, but Ace had actually raised a valid point. Ninja man didn't have a gun on him, and hadn't threatened either Ace or Rick and Michonne. 

"Very low for the amount of people you have," Jesus continued. "Fifty-four?" 

"More than that," Maggie said softly. 

"Well, I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef," Jesus said after a pause. 

Daryl snarled even as Ace laughed. "You gave him a cookie? Shit. Guarantee you that was Rick's idea, not Darrie's." 

"Shut up, sis." 

"Make me, bro," she fired back. 

"Children, please." Rick sounded like he was getting the mother of all migraines. Daryl glared liberally between Ace and Jesus, and Shane had a feeling Dixon was about to blow a fuse. 

Jesus sighed and twisted to look at Daryl. "Look, we got off to a bad start. But we're on the same side- the living side. You and Rick had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn't. I'm from a place that's a lot like this one." 

Ace's foot had been bouncing restlessly, but she went still at those words and sucked in a breath. Shane rubbed a hand over her arm, trying to get her to calm the fuck down, and glanced at Rick to find his brother looking back at him. 

Yeah, he thought. This was where it got interesting. 

Jesus' community was an easy day's drive from where they were. According to the ninja, they were growing crops and raising livestock, and when Maggie had leaned forward intently and asked if they were already trading with other groups, he'd smiled smugly at them and informed them their world was about to get a whole lot bigger. 

Shane followed Ace and Daryl into the house, already wondering how in the hell he was going to convince Slugger to stay behind. She was practically vibrating, the way she got when she had an idea for some new piece and her entire world was about to narrow to just that one thing. 

He closed the door to their room and she was already stripping off his flannel shirt and pulling one of her lacy things over her head. "Hey, Slugger-" 

"Hell no," she said instantly. She turned and planted her hands on her hips, and Shane took a minute to appreciate the contrast between black lacy halter thing and the gun and sheathed knife on her hips. She rolled her eyes at him like she knew what he was thinking and he flashed her a grin. 

"Stay here?" he asked, knowing it was futile. But he had to ask. He wasn't even sure he wanted her to stay- they had this tendency to have things fall apart on them when they weren't together- but he also didn't know what they were about to get themselves into, ninja man's promise be damned. Shane didn't trust him. 

Ace pulled a tank top over her head and wrapped his flannel back around her hips. She crossed her arms and gave him that look, like he was being a dumbass. He figured he probably was. He rubbed at the back of his head and sighed. "You're not going to, are you?" 

"Nope. Did you meet the same guy I did? He's the most interesting thing to happen here in like a month. I'm gonna paint him." 

Shane grimaced. "Slugger-" 

"Oh, shut up, not in a 'paint me like one of your French girls' way. This isn't the goddamn Titanic," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Actually, I have a vaguely sacrilegious idea to run by him, if he's on the up and up. Which I think he is. I like him. I'm going." She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him, and Shane gave up. 

He leaned his forehead to hers and sighed. "Fine." 

"Don't worry so much. This is a good discovery," she whispered. She reached behind him to open their door, flashing him a sly look. "And you know you're the only one I draw naked." 

Shane groaned. "We both know that ain't true, sweetheart." 

"How would you know?" 

He crowded close behind her on the stairs to whisper in her ear. "Cause I know for a fact you've done some of both of us together. Found something interesting in your apartment one time."

"What? What'd you find?" She stopped dead and stared at him, and Shane once again wished he could go find that private stash she'd hinted about more than once. 

He winked at her and kept walking, ignoring her demands for more information. 

Shane stood with an arm around Carl's shoulders, watching as the RV was prepped. So far, they had Rick, Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, Ace, Daryl, and Abraham going too, and Shane thought the RV was gonna be packed a little uncomfortably full as it was. They'd have needed a couple of vehicles, and he briefly entertained the idea of convincing Ace to stay behind. 

Since she was currently inside the house in a deep discussion with their new maybe-ally, Shane had a feeling that wasn't happening. 

Rick wandered over with Judy in his arms and his stubborn bastard expression in place. "Shane," he started. 

Shane figured he knew what was coming. "Nope. Ace is going, so I am too. I don't trust this asshole yet, but if he'd telling the truth, this is a big deal."

"Are you guys sure?" Carl asked. 

"No," Rick admitted. "But Shane's right. It could be the start of everything. Brother, we need someone to stay here and be in charge." 

Shane scratched at the back of his head and let out a bemused half-laugh. "Oh, goddamn it. Can't believe I'm about to do this, but- Hey, Lump!" 

Rick squinted at him, clearly dubious. "You sure?"

Merle wandered over. "The fuck ya want, pig? Already got both of my baby siblings goin' with ya. You need another Dixon to make sure ya can wipe ya own asses?" 

"That's nice," Shane muttered. "Rick and I are both going. You and Carl are in charge. Don't burn the place to the ground." 

Merle studied him for a minute, then nodded seriously. He slapped Rick on the back and flashed Carl a grin. "Aight, arson's out, but how d'ya feel about target practice?" 

"Merle, please," Carl muttered. "I've only got one eye." 

"So? Ya can still aim. Shit, only one eye means it's probably even better to get some rounds in." 

Rick looked at Shane. "This is your idea." 

He shrugged, trying not to laugh, and took Judith from Rick. "Yeah, it is." 

Shane had a headache. 

Between Ace being up Michonne's ass about her and Rick and what that meant for Merle, Abraham asking Glenn if he had been "trying to make pancakes when they were pouring the Bisquick"- direct quote, goddamn it- and Daryl trying to drill a hole in the ninja's head with the power of his glare, Shane was ready to kick Rick out of the driver's seat and drive the van straight into the nearest body of water to make it all stop. 

He wasn't anticipating the accident, but that certainly did make everything stop. When Jesus saw the car on its side, Shane recognized controlled panic when he saw it. No matter what else was going on, that man was telling the truth about it being his friends who'd been in the car when it flipped. 

Maggie and Ace had kept an eye on the ninja while the rest of them searched for survivors, and Shane had seen the way Ace was eyeing Maggie these days. His girl was worried about her, the way she'd worried about Lori, and Shane knew she needed to make sure Maggie and her baby stayed safe. 

And they'd saved a doctor. Not just any doctor, but an OBGYN. 

Ace bickered with Daryl as she chatted with Jesus' other three friends. One man was injured from the crash, and Shane kept half an ear out as Ace learned their life stories in between insults with her brother. He was paying more attention to the road around them, wondering when they'd fucking get out of this overcrowded tin can. 

He wanted to see this new world Jesus had promised them. He wanted to see what the future was going to throw at them now. Ace had been right when she'd said nothing interesting had happened in the past month, and Shane was getting tense. When things went right for that long, it usually meant the other shoe was about to drop from the sky and try to knock him out cold. 

Rick would probably tell him not to be so optimistic all the time. He'd done it before. 

The RV jerked to a halt. 

"Damn it," Rick muttered, reving the engine to try to free the tires. As expected- by Shane, at least- it didn't work. 

Shane pressed a hand to his eyes and sighed. 

He shaded his eyes and squinted out at the field. Carl was on outfield today, and looked about as bored as Shane had ever seen him look. In fact, the kid might have been daydreaming. He sure as hell wasn't paying much attention to the game he was part of. 

To be fair, Shane wasn't paying much attention to the game either. Both teams sucked. They were tied one to one. He wondered why the hell he'd drug his ass out here at ten in the morning when Carl clearly didn't want to be here and Shane knew for damn certain he didn't want to be. He'd worked all night, headed straight to the house to crash for three hours before Lori had to leave, and drug himself out here. 

"You hear about Atlanta?" 

Shane wished everyone around would just shut the fuck up already. His head was screaming, and even the redeye coffee wasn't doing it for him anymore. He was headed for a breakdown and fast, but he had too damn much to do to crash now. 

"FEMA's been deployed. National Guard is mobilizing. Hey, isn't Shane a cop?" 

Please don't ask Shane, please don't ask Shane, he thought, trying hard to focus on the kids and not the murmuring voices around him, and especially not the two behind him. 

Someone tapped on his shoulder and he thought about ignoring them. He also thought about snapping at them that he was fucking off duty and he didn't fucking know anything about Atlanta. 

Problem was, he did know, and he was keeping an eye on it. A really fucking close eye, considering- 

He turned and offered a polite smile to some blonde who looked like every other one of Lori's boring friends. "Can I help you?" 

"Is the National Guard mobilizing in Atlanta?" she asked intently. 

No 'hey, how are you'. No 'sorry to bother you'. Just lean in, hand lingering on his arm, and intense eye contact as she asked the question. Shane sighed and gulped more coffee. 

"Sorry, ma'am, I don't really know anything. Even if I did, I can't tell you any more than the news can." He included a smile with his flat-out lie and turned resolutely back to the game, cheering and calling some bullshit encouragement as the next kid trudged up to bat. 

Shane was pretty sure Carl was facing the wrong direction now. 

When his phone buzzed he could have jumped out of his skin. It was Lori's number, and Shane's heart stopped. She was at the hospital with Rick. "Hey, Lor," he answered, getting up and wandering away from the bleachers. "What's wrong?" 

"Shane, can you- I'm going to ask Amanda to bring Carl to her place. Can you- can you come up here? They're talking about air lifting people out of here and I don't know what to do." 

Shane closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, wishing desperately for five hours to sleep. That's all he needed; five hours. 

"Course. Let me tell the coach so I can tell Carl the plan, and I'll be on my way, alright? It's gonna be fine, Lor. I'll get it figured out."


	66. Lie #66: "I've Never Punched Any Of Them." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

Dickhead looked about ready to blow when the RV got stuck, but your new ninja friend smiled and declared that you were there anyway. Shane was the first one out of the RV, and you were hot on his heels. 

"That's it. That's the Hilltop," Jesus said solemnly as everyone piled out. 

Two seconds later your brother and Rick were arguing with Jesus and the guards on the gate about keeping your guns. Shane pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath too quiet for even you to hear, and you bit the inside of your lip and tried not to laugh. 

You had a good feeling about this place. Also, you were going to draw it. Whether or not you got to paint on those massive walls was a matter for discovery later, but you knew you'd have this whole scene, guards with their spears included, done in charcoal before much time had passed. It was so primal, you wanted it in lose lines and smudged shadows. Nothing crisp or clear about this image, even if the walls stood stark against a cloudless blue sky. 

You were too busy mentally drawing to hear the end of the argument, and when the gates began to swing open you stared with everyone else. 

"That's called Barrington House," Jesus said, answering someone's question that you'd been too busy staring around you to hear. "The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for 50 miles used to come here for field trips. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it would keep running after the modern world broke down." 

From the looks of things, you'd say he was right. The living history museum made sense now, and you stared hard at the forge currently in use. Metalwork might not have been your thing, but boy did it look fun. Maria had introduced you to this guy at one of her showcases, and while he'd been a condescending douchenozzle, you had to admit he made the most incredible sculptures. Twisted strips of paper-thin metal, filigree patterns layered over, thick sheets and bars all twinned together until they looked like growing things- it had been interesting enough to put up with the dude himself for an afternoon tour of his studio. It was not interesting enough to put up with him requesting you to strip and "be his muse." You kinda wanted to go play with the forge, but you forced yourself to focus on the rest of the community instead. FEMA trailers had obviously come after everything went down, but the set up here- it could work, what with the walls. It could be damn near self-sustaining. 

"Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction," Jesus continued, pointing up at the cupola on top of the plantation house. "It's perfect for security. Come on, I'll show you inside." 

"Easy, Slugger, you're gonna start drooling," Shane muttered, grabbing your elbow. You'd been staring up at the cupola, already mentally lost in the art you were going to make about this place. 

Also, you wanted to start a map. 

You let him hustle you inside, though, and looked around wide-eyed with the others. 

"Good gracious, Ignatius," Abraham said slowly. 

You snorted and held up a hand for a fist bump. "Yeah, that's about right." 

"Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces. Even the ones that weren't bedrooms," Jesus told you. The opulent furniture and heavy oil paintings were trappings of a bygone age even before the world ended. Color and texture abounded in a riot that sometimes made your eyes hurt, but you studied it all slowly, blocking out the rest of the conversation until a door behind Daryl opened. 

You took one look at the guy standing dramatically in the double doorway and wanted to sneer. 

"Jesus! You're back!" he declared, like he was surprised. You could tell from the position of the room behind him that he'd fucking well seen you all walk up, and you knew he'd heard you talking out here in the foyer. "With guests," he added, running a critical eye over your group and buttoning his suit jacket. 

The man was in a suit. In the apocalypse. You and yours weren't quite the bedraggled team of blood-soaked mountain men you'd been when you moved into Alexandria, and sure, a lot of the time you cleaned up pretty decently. 

But this dude was spotless- not a hair out of place and his suit looked like it had been pressed. Considering a house like this probably had at least one cast iron fire-heated iron stashed somewhere, you'd have bet decent money that you were correct. And that this tool hadn't done it himself. 

"Oh, he'd make the asshole face," you mumbled, half turning away to try to get your face under control as Jesus made the introduction. 

Shane turned laughter into a cough at the last minute, and you'd barely managed to get your shit together when Gregory spread his hands, flashed a smarmy smile, and declared that he was the boss. 

You glanced at Rick to see how he was taking this tool, and you were damn proud of him for the way he nodded acceptance and didn't laugh him into next week. "Well, I'm Rick, and we're from a community-"

"Why don't y'all go get cleaned up, hmm?" Gregory interrupted. 

"Fucking hell," Shane muttered. He took half a step toward Rick, but your fearless and sometimes less than temperate leader didn't react. You figured this guy would never know, based on Rick's controlled "we're fine", how close he'd just come to getting shot in the face. 

Gregory was on a power trip, and you could see the gears turning in Rick's mind when the other man stepped close and muttered, "It's hard to keep this place clean." 

Rick huffed and tried very hard not to sneer, glancing over at Shane. You honestly weren't sure if he was asking to be stopped or to be given permission to put this asshole out of your misery, but Dickhead just shrugged and scrubbed a hand over his head. "Yeah. Sure," Rick agreed with a brief, tight smile. 

You were very proud of the way no one, including you, had told this asshole where he could stick his cleaning up. Considering how recently Michonne over there had knocked Rick out while he was yelling about being in charge over a man's unconscious body, there had been some real fear regarding diplomacy. 

Jesus looked like he might have cheerfully joined Rick in shooting Gregory in the head at that moment, but he gestured toward the stairs. "Follow me." 

Looked like you were going to "clean up". Since you sure as shit weren't getting a shower right now, you didn’t know what Gregory though you were going to do, but you fell in just behind Rick and Shane and watched Jesus pretend not to listen in. 

"Shane-" Rick started. 

Shane scoffed. "You've seen me negotiate. I'll punch him." 

"I might shoot him," Rick muttered. 

Score one to Ace for knowing these two a little too well, you thought, lips pressed together so you didn't start laughing. You glanced behind you and Maggie was clearly doing the same. She nodded, already on the same page as you, and you tapped Rick on the shoulder. "Maggie and I will go." 

"You sure, Slugger? You might punch him too." 

"Hardy har har. I'll pretend I'm negotiating with vendors for the Lullaby. I never punched any of them. Well, just the one. But he earned it." 

"I'm not exactly brimming with confidence right now," Rick muttered.

Shane sighed. "Got any better ideas?" 

"Not really."

"Natalie, right?" Gregory said as the two of you entered his office. 

Yeah, this was going to go well, you thought when he shrugged and said "pretty close" to Maggie's correction. 

"Not really," she said pleasantly. You could have cheered. "And this is Ace." 

"She calls them like she sees them! I like that," Gregory said with joviality so fake you wanted to barf. "Come in, come in. What's your real name, sweetheart? Ace is a nickname, right?" 

"Ace is fine. No one calls me by name, not even my brothers," you told him, bartender's smile blinding and vacant as you looked around the office. 

"Still, it's not exactly lady-like, is it?" 

Your attention was caught by the painting, and you heard Maggie's soft laugh as you moved over for a closer look. Oil, old general on horseback. Old as in Revolutionary War, not age of the man. It was good, and if you had to guess you'd say it was original to the time period of the house, not a replica. 

"I came to this place once, before. When it was a museum," Gregory said. You didn't look away from the painting, because frankly you were questioning whether this had been the best idea after all. You really wanted to deck this guy and negotiations hadn't even begun. "Some Chamber of Commerce thing." 

Of course he'd been in politics. Fucking tool. He'd have ordered a top-shelf scotch and left very small tip, then pontificated on how the service industry shouldn't have to run on gratuity and every worker should be paid a living wage. 

"Love that painting," he added, stepping between you and Maggie. "I never figured it'd be mine, but… here it is. It's like it was waiting for me the whole time." 

"Ace is an artist. She can probably tell you all about it." 

"Hmm. Jesus tells me your group saved Dr. Carson." Gregory's tone changed to powerful and vaguely annoyed as he turned away. 

Time to get down to business. Maggie and Gregory sat down opposite each other, Gregory taking the fainting couch. His instant man-spread had you doing a mental eye roll, and you leaned one hip against the back of Maggie's chair rather than sit down. You'd match power pose with power pose, if that's what Gregory wanted. 

"Obviously, a doctor is rare commodity these days, so I wanted to thank you for bringing ours back." 

"My husband saved him," Maggie acknowledged. 

Gregory paused. "I'll be sure to thank him too. Sweetheart, why don't you have a seat?" 

"I'm fine," you told him with a smile, waving that off. If he didn't fucking stop calling you sweetheart, you'd go sit on his desk and kick it with your muddy boots the whole time they talked. 

Maggie was clearly a better choice for this than you were, and you could already tell she was going to do a better job. You used to be good at talking to people, and at getting what you wanted from those in charge even when you hated them. These days, especially right now, it was like your temper was balanced on a razor's edge and any little thing would send you over. It wasn't helpful, and you weren't a fan. You were Ace. You talked to people. That's what you did. 

You missed Jason, your partner in crime, hard and out of nowhere. You thought you'd have been able to deal with this asshole better if you'd known you could go and smoke a cigarette out back and bitch to Jason about it.

They started firing questions back and forth, Gregory trying to take the benevolent-teacher role. Maggie answered what she wanted to, mainly without actually answering anything, and you said nothing, until he asked about your arsenal. 

"Jesus said you have ammunition, so your weapons cache, it must be decently stocked." 

"It's decent," you said, studying the painting again. You straightened from Maggie's chair and flashed him a slight smile, knowing the Glock on your hip was quite visible. "We get by, anyway." 

"And your infirmary, is it stocked?" he asked, sounding annoyed. 

"Is yours?" Maggie asked pointedly. " We came here hoping to talk trade. Do you have enough here for that?" 

You didn't bother to hide your smirk. You were facing the painting anyway, above the massive marble fireplace. Seems like Maggie was just as over this guy as you were. 

"You see what I have here. You see what I've built," Gregory said, sneer in his voice. "Jesus said that your food situation was challenged right now. You don't keep people fed, it comes apart." 

"That's true. I was a bartender before all this. If the kitchen breaks down, it all breaks down. On the other hand," you smiled at Gregory's irritated expression, "give them booze and they're happy." 

"Let's speak the common tongue here, huh?" he snarled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He chose to ignore you and focus on Maggie, which you might have been amused by if he wasn't so very obnoxious. "You don't have shit. Now, I'm happy to help. I'm a nice guy. But we can't just give things away for free. You must know how it works, if you were in the service industry. How's this- since you can't offer much, I'll let your people work here for their share. You'd be a welcome addition to the community. A smart, beautiful woman. Both of you. Getting back to that common tongue, I can tell ya, I can make it worth your while."

You scoffed. "Nice guy, my ass. I do know how it works, and-" 

"Listen, honey-" 

"Stop." Maggie's voice cut over his as you took a long step around the chair, ready to have at this asshole. First he heavily implied the both of you could come prostitute yourselves out for food, then he interrupted you? Yeah, you were so done. 

Maggie grabbed your and held you in place. "Stop calling us honey, or sweetheart. You don't have any ammunition." 

Gregory rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. "Who said that?" 

"No one had to," you muttered. Maggie let go and you crossed your arms, wondering if you could get away with decking him after all. 

"You're low on medication. You need things. We need things," Maggie went on, voice implacable. 

"You going to give us a bottle of asprin and a box of bullets?" 

"Our communities can help each other," you said slowly. Maggie had him there. He needed ammo, and he needed drugs. And he hated to admit it. 

He shoved to his feet and moved behind his desk. "Thank you, Natalie. It's been a good talk." 

Your teeth ground together and Maggie set a hand on your arm again as she rose. You brushed her off and lay your palms flat on Gregory's desk. He matched you, and you stared into his eyes. "We can help each other." 

"We're doing fine," he said firmly. "Are you?" 

You let yourself into the bar and flipped on the lights, heading straight to the jukebox. Two minutes later, a sugary-sweet cheerful pop beat filled the bar, and you tossed your jacket in the direction of a bar stool and headed for the office. 

Ellie and Ben were on vacation this week, their annual trip up North, and you were playing manager. Ok, to be fair, you weren't playing. You were one of their managers. It was just that one of them was never not there except for three weeks out of the year- this week in the summer and two at Christmas- so it felt a lot like playing. 

Deliveries were coming in this afternoon, and you grabbed two clipboards off the wall and wandered back out. You blessed Ellie for her damn near anal sense of organization- without her the bar would be lost and every one of you knew it, especially Ben- and scanned the printed receipt and itemized list of orders. Booze, wine, and meat- everything a good bar needed, you thought with grimace. You just wished that didn't include dealing with the wine guy. You were going to end up punching him one of these days. 

You had a couple hours, so you grabbed the second clipboard and started with shift chores. Jason would appreciate it tonight, and so would the waitstaff. Julie had already asked if she could come in late; Sarah's babysitter had called her in a panic and Julie had called you. So you'd get the floors mopped, do inventory behind the bar, and start hauling the chairs down when the floor was dry. By then you should be getting deliveries in and the kitchen staff would be arriving to prep, waitstaff a little after.

Bar chores were soothing, routine work. A lot of people hated set up and break down, but you didn't. Prep was important to a smooth night. 

You were wailing along to Kelly Clarkson, flipping chairs down and thinking about live music the next night and the email you'd gotten that afternoon from Maria about setting up another showcase when the hand closed on your arm. 

You screamed and whirled, swinging the chair like you were in the middle of a bar brawl. Merle hadn't raised an idiot, and you absolutely hated to be touched when you weren't expecting it. 

Especially when you were alone and the door should have been locked. 

"Shit! Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you!" 

You set the chair down and dropped into it, breathing hard and trying to bring your racing pulse down. "Holy fuck, Alejandro." 

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Alejandro held his clipboard up like a shield, looking contrite. "I'm early. The door was unlocked and that never happens, and I didn't think to speak before I grabbed you. Sorry, Ace." 

You shoved a hand through your hair and started laughing, maybe hysterically. What else were you going to do though? Alejandro had been delivering your booze since- well, since ever, honestly. He was a good guy, built like a champion weightlifter, and honestly just a massive teddy bear. He seemed utterly devastated that he'd startled you so badly, and you kissed his cheek as you rose. "Don't worry about it, honey, shit happens. Got your copy? Ellie left everything like normal, and-" 

"Did the Lullaby change its payment plan to 'sugar'? I'll accept kisses for wine, darlin'." 

You could feel your face cool at the exaggerated drawl. Where Alejandro was a friend, Gavin O'Neil was most decidedly not. He was also not even remotely Southern, and someone needed to remind him that damn Yankees who tried to act Southern were worse than damn Yankees who tried to act superior. It just didn't do to fake a drawl in the middle of Georgia. It wasn't hard. Yeah, you'd still probably get asked the joke- what's the difference between a Yankee and a damn Yankee? A Yankee comes to visit, a damn Yankee comes to stay- but you'd be largely left alone. It's the South; everyone's polite, at least to your face. 

The fucking accent pissed those of you with a real drawl off.

"Gavin, good to see you. I've got my copy of our list for you as well," you told him, keeping it civil and professional. Gavin leaned on the bar, way too close, and you heard Alejandro clear his throat irritatedly. You had boosted yourself up on the lower rung of a stool to lean over the bar for your clipboard, and you had no doubt Gavin was staring at your ass. 

He was always staring at your ass. 

You sidestepped him and his come hither smile neatly, crossing the bar to prop open the doors. He sighed and strolled over, thumbs hooked in his pockets. "So, when are you going to ditch the wanna be rock star and go out with me?" he asked, lingering in the doorway. 

"Oh, about the time hell freezes over. Gavin, I'm not interested. We do this every time. I just need my checklist and my wine, please, not a date." 

He shrugged. "Your loss." 

"It's really not," you muttered when he walked away. 

"Shane was right. I almost decked him," you told Jesus bluntly. "The end of the world seems to have severely lowered my tolerance for assholes." You and Maggie had filled the others in, though you seemed to have reached a mutual agreement to leave out the heavy suggestion from Gregory. You wanted to trade, not start a war, and Rick, Shane, and Darrie all looked ready to start a fight without any added incentive.

Jesus winced. "I'm glad you didn't. We want to generate trade. Gregory does." 

You lifted an eyebrow at that Freudian slip there. You had a feeling it was less Gregory wanted to trade than Jesus wanting to, and you wondered how much that tool in there was actually in charge. 

"Ammo just isn't something we urgently need," he continued. Without his ninja coat and the beanie you might have already contemplated stealing, he looked less like a character out of one of Carl's comics than before, and his eyes and voice were sincere. 

"How's that?" Rick asked, sounding bemused. Frankly, you were too. In this world, ammo was king. 

Jesus shrugged. "The walls hold. We just brought in more medicine. Gregory wants the best deal possible." 

"Yeah, well, we want things too," Daryl snapped. 

"Breathe, Darrie," you muttered. "You'll wear a hole in the carpet." 

"We need food," Rick said slowly, stubborn bastard expression firmly in place. "We came all this way, we're gonna get it." 

"Jesus, brother," Shane muttered. 

"No, Jesus isn't your brother," you said automatically. You knew a threat when you'd heard one from Rick Grimes, and you were wondering if this was going to be another hostile takeover bid. You guys had only recently gotten a handle on your own place, you weren't really sure expanding the Republic of Rick was in everyone's best interests right now. 

Jesus hid a smile. Shane groaned and rubbed a hand on the back of his head. You smiled sweetly at both of them and Rick's tired expression. 

"I will talk to him. We will work this out," Jesus promised. "Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will be next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?" 

"Will you use those days to stage a coupe and take over?" you demanded. "You, I can work with. You would order something sensible, like a local draft or bourbon. You wouldn't make the asshole face." 

"What the fuck ya goin' on about, sis?" Daryl muttered, but the outside door opened and one of the guards from the gate came in with a grim expression. 

Gregory opened his office doors. "What's wrong?" 

"They're back." 

Gregory went pale and jerked his head at Jesus, heading for the door. The ninja man unfolded his arms, frown on his face, and you wondered what the hell that meant.

"What a cryptic and interesting development," you muttered to Daryl and Shane as you followed Jesus and Gregory outside. 

"Can ya shut the hell up? Please?"


	67. Lie #67: "Sorry. It Was An Accident." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon-typical violence

Three people headed straight for Gregory, looking pissed as hell. That didn't surprise you much, in all honesty, because 'pissed as hell' was looking like the default for associating with that tool. 

"Where's everyone else? Where's Tim and Marsha?" Gregory demanded. 

"They're dead." 

Ok, that was interesting. Shane shifted beside you, hooking his hands through his gun belt and exchanging one of those meaningful looks with Rick. Rick's eyes were hard, his expression tightly controlled. Something was going on here, and you didn't like being in the dark. Looked like the others were enjoying it about as much as you were. 

"Negan?" Gregory asked. 

You tensed, and Daryl touched your arm. A look over at Abraham showed the same recognition in his eyes. You'd heard that name before, along with a demand for all your shit and a handful a threats. 

"We had a deal!" Gregory protested.

One of the other men spoke up. "He said it wasn't enough. Was the drop light?" 

Your eyes narrowed on Gregory at his annoyed-sounding 'no'. You've seen enough liars and enough bullshitters to recognize one when he leered and suggested you whore your way for food, and that- that right there? Had been a lie. Or at the very least, it wasn't the whole truth. 

What the hell was going on here? 

"They still have Craig," the woman said. These three had that look in their eyes, the one you'd seen in your friends and, hell, in the mirror too many times to count. Wherever they'd been, whatever was going on, it had been bad. 

"They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us, if- if I deliver a message to you." The tall one, with the Viking hair and beard, stood in front of Gregory. You frowned and looked at the other two, both of them staring down at the ground. Something was- something wasn't right. 

Gregory half-cried out in pain, and you stared wide-eyed as Michonne and Rick tackled the Viking. Gregory fell back in Maggie and Jesus' arms, bleeding from his stomach, and you didn't know whether to jump into the brewing fight or go over to help Gregory. 

Shane muttered a curse and ran for Rick, and you flung yourself down to see how bad the damage was. After all, if the leader of this community croaked right now, so did your chances of scoring food today, right? 

You'd been spending too much time with Carol if that was your mentality. 

You ignored the hitting and the screaming and the other sounds of fighting, trusting Shane and Daryl and the others to have it under control. These guys didn't have any ammo. You did. You figured that was a bit of a guaranteed victory. 

Besides, Shane wouldn't let Rick lose. That was just a law of the known universe. 

You thought rather desperately back to that anatomy chart you were doing on Denise's wall, and from what you remembered it looked like the knife had missed any major organs. On the other hand, this was deep and it was a gut wound, and you were far from a doctor. Wait, didn't these guys have a doctor? 

"Stay back! Anybody who tries to stop me is killing my brother!" 

Shane's muttered 'fuck' had you turning around, unable to block out what was going on behind you anymore. The Viking had Rick pinned, knife at his throat, and both Shane and Glenn stood with their guns halfway drawn. 

Abraham was on the ground; Daryl stood over the other man, who clutched his arm in pain; and Michonne had one hand on her sword and one eye on the chick. 

You studied the Viking. "Look, man, I sympathize, but you're gonna want to let go of him now." 

"Why?" Viking demanded, not taking his eyes from Shane and Glenn. 

Shane scoffed. "Cause that's my brother you've got a knife to, asshole, and I don't take too kindly to that." 

The Viking's head tilted, just slightly, and Rick plunged… well, you didn't know what it was, but Rick moved and suddenly the guy was pouring blood all over Rick, absolutely soaking him with arterial flow from the brand-new hole in his neck. 

Dead silence reigned as Rick shoved the body off and climbed to his feet, and you blinked a couple times at the sudden change. Shane dropped his hand from his gun to run it over his head instead. Rick looked at all the shocked faces, blood all over him from the nose down, and looked confused at their expressions. 

"What?" he demanded.

Shane half-laughed, and it didn't sound amused. "Shit, brother. You look like the fucking angel of death, that's what!" 

"Nathan! You killed him!" 

Darrie had the other man at gunpoint, still on the ground clutching his arm, and you agreed with Rick's disgusted tone. "He tried to kill Gregory, then me!" 

What the hell was the problem here? Maggie's hand covered yours where you were applying pressure to Gregory's stomach and she jerked her head toward the group. "I've got him. Go." 

You nodded and shoved to your feet, ignoring Shane's glare that clearly directed you to stay where you were. "Seriously, people, what's the issue? Oh shit." 

The woman came out of nowhere and fucking decked Rick, and you honestly weren't sure what to do. Michonne did not have the same uncertainty, and you whistled when Michonne used one arm to body-slam the other woman to the ground. "Michonne says 'not today'," you mumbled to absolutely no one. God, you loved her. 

"Drop it now!" 

"Oh, Christ, what next?" you snapped, turning to see one of the guards approaching with a spear in hand. 

"I don't think I will," Rick sneered, pacing forward to meet him. Rick had drawn the Python, and he had that casual air that usually meant things were about to get violent and dictatorial. 

Jesus scrambled between them, standing arms outstretched to each side. "Everyone, this is over! It's over! Nathan was our friend, but let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us. He did this. And these people stopped him." 

Jesus stood with a gun and a spear trained on either side of his head, white linen shirt still spotless and all that hair. His eyes were pale and intense as he looked at the crowd, arms still outstretched, and when they landed on you briefly you got a chill. 

"I'm going to draw this. Do you think he'll pose for me?"

You honestly didn't realize you'd said it out loud until Shane snorted, his hand brushing your back as Rick asked what he could do. "Now's really not the time, sweetheart." 

"It's always the time for art," you countered, busy trying to take in every damn detail. You wanted a sketchbook, like, right the fuck now.

"Put the gun away. You've done enough," Jesus answered Rick, and to your surprise, Rick lowered the Python without hesitation. Relief flashed over Jesus' face, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. "You need to know, things aren't as simple as they may seem." 

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," you snapped, you and Shane heading over to the two of them. You liked the ninja man; really you did. You enjoyed talking to him in the RV, and up until now you'd trusted him. At this point, you were starting to wonder. "What the hell?" 

"Just give me some time." Jesus didn't smile at you, and that more than anything told you shit was about to go horribly wrong. 

"Yeah, there's the damn other shoe," Shane muttered. He looked at Rick and shook his head. "Now you need a shower, brother." 

Rick swiped a hand over his bloody chin and shrugged. "I've been worse." 

"Yeah, maybe when you bit a man's throat out. But shit, you've been a hell of a lot better, too. Fucking horror movie shit, man." 

"Dr. Carson was able to patch Gregory up. He's in pain, but he'll live." Jesus told you all. He came into the room looking exhausted, and you supposed you couldn't blame him. He'd been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours, and who even knew what had happened to him before he'd encountered your brother and Rick. 

"So what happens now?" Michonne asked. 

Jesus sighed. "Things like that don't usually happen here, but it's settled." 

If someone else didn't ask, you were fucking going to. "Who's Negan?" 

Jesus looked over at you. You were perched on Shane's knee, more an attempt to keep him from pacing with your brother than anything else, and Darrie was doing said pacing back behind you. Abraham lounged nearby, with Maggie and Glenn near the window and Rick leaning on an end table by Michonne. The foyer was becoming a little too familiar, frankly, as was a lack of serious answers from your new ninja friend. 

If you had to start pouring drinks to get someone to talk, you'd have bet good money you could find something in Gregory's office that would do the trick. 

"Negan's the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors." 

Holy shit, Jesus was actually answering. He kept a good poker face, but his eyes were too expressive. That's where you looked, always, when trying to get a read on people. And Jesus' eyes were tired and sad, and more serious than you'd seen them so far. Even when he was between Rick and Kal, trying to keep people alive. Daryl stopped pacing behind you and set a hand on your shoulder, and you wondered if he saw what you did. Your brother had learned to read people too, his just didn't show it very often. 

"As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up," Jesus continued. He turned to Rick, his fingers twinning together in a gesture some would have called nervous. You called it self-soothing. "They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And he killed one of us- Rory. He was sixteen years old." 

"Fuck," Shane muttered. "Fuck." 

You agreed with your Dickhead. That was- 

"They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat." Jesus' voice took on the bitter edge of old hatred, as well as barely concealed loathing. "Gregory's not exactly good at confrontation. He's not the leader I would've chosen, but he helped make this place what it is, and the people like him." 

The people like him, but not you, you thought. You knew firsthand what it was like to watch someone get beaten. Watching a child- sixteen was still a child, damn it- get beaten to death was something you didn't know if you'd recover from. 

Shane and Daryl both tightened their grips on you, like they knew what you'd just thought. Shit, Darrie might have been thinking the same thing, but you figured Dickhead was remembering the kid cases he'd worked over the years. They were the ones that usually ended with Shane wrapped around you in the dark, holding on like he was right now. Like he was afraid he'd drift away and never return if he didn't hold onto you just as tight as he could. 

The deal, it turned out, was half of everything. Their crops, their supplies, their livestock- half of it went to these Saviors, and in return, they didn't get killed. 

"It's a gang deal," Daryl muttered. He leaned on the back of the chair you and Shane sat in. 

"Yep," you agreed slowly. "Protection scam. Jesus, why not just, I dunno, kill them?" 

Shane snorted. "Easy there, Slugger. Damn bloodthirsty again. Look around, sweetheart. Most people in here won't know how to fight, and they don't have ammo, remember?" 

"The Saviors took it," Jesus agreed.

"How many people does Negan have?" 

You turned a considering eye on Rick, knowing that tone. Shane muttered something under his breath and rubbed at his head, and you figured you were right with where this was going. 

"We don't know. We've seen groups as big as twenty," Jesus told him. You had the feeling he knew where this was headed too. 

"So, they show up, they kill a kid, and you give 'em half of everything? These dicks just got a good story. Boogeyman ain't shit," Daryl spat, shoving off the back of the couch and rounding it. 

Your brother was pissed. It radiated off him in waves, in the way he flung his hands around and his shoulders were straight and square. Killing the kid had crossed the goddamn line. Even fucking gangs like Merle's had rules about killing kids. It just wasn't done. Negan and his fucking Saviors were the ones who were going to need saving.

"How do you know?" Jesus asked, but there was something like hope in his eyes. 

You snorted, but it was Abraham who answered. "A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ. The lady there left them in pieces and puddles." 

"Abe, please," you muttered, but shit, he was right. "We'll do it." 

"Damn it, Slugger-" 

"Naw, she's right. If we go get ya man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up?" Darrie's voice was dead serious as he stabbed a finger in Jesus' direction. Somewhere along the way the ninja man had changed your brother's mind. It might have been the same time he changed Shane's, it might have been since you got here, but Daryl trusted him. Daryl wasn't making a deal with Gregory right now; he was making a deal with Jesus. "We want food, medicine, and one of them cows." 

Jesus knew it, too, you thought as he regarded your brother and glanced over the rest of you. He turned to Rick, question in his eyes, and Rick shrugged.

"Confrontation's never been something we've had trouble with." 

"CDC, Governor, Terminus, damn asshole who's throat he ripped out with his fuckin' teeth, Garrett, Pete, Deanna," Shane muttered under his breath. "And that's just since the world ended." 

You started laughing and they all looked at you. You waved, unable to stop, and Rick's eyes narrowed on Shane. He shook his head in disgust and focused back on Jesus. 

Jesus' expression was an odd mix of amused, hopeful, and vaguely awed. "I'll take it to Gregory." 

Rick spent some time trying to convince everyone- so really trying to convince himself- that this was a good deal. 

It wasn't, and you were fairly certain all of you knew it, but as Shane had put it when he kissed your neck and shrugged- "whatever it takes. We've done it before, we'll do it again. World's different, brother. We gotta eat."

"This is the trade," Rick said slowly. He turned his back on the group burning Nathan the idiot Viking, but you continued to watch from your spot on the railing. 

Pastels, you decided. Impressionist and pastels. Muted colors and dreamy, and the viewer would never realize what was going on, unless they took the time to study the background. 

This was the trade. There wasn't another one. And your people could do it, no question. 

"It's gonna cost us something," Maggie said softly. 

She was right, of course, but the road had already cost you all something. Shane shrugged. "It ain't easy. If it was, I wouldn't trust it." 

Jesus walked out onto the porch with an irritated expression. It seemed you were correct, and 'irritated as hell' was just the universal response to that absolute douchnozzle of a man. "Gregory's up. He wants to talk." 

Rick immediately stepped forward, but you had a feeling you knew what was coming. Jesus winced. "He wants to talk to Maggie." 

Maggie looked at you and you could see your exact grimace in her mind. You hopped off the railing. "Come on, girl. You got this, and I'm going too." 

"You don't have to," she said seriously. Shane shook his head at you, looking like he wanted to say the same thing, but you shrugged. 

"Yeah, I do," you disagreed. You kissed Shane's cheek on your way past, falling in behind Maggie and Jesus. 

"I'm sorry in advance. Gregory can be a real prick," Jesus informed you both. 

Maggie sighed. "I know." 

He'd taken residence in what had most likely been the plantation owner's bedroom. It was huge, opulent, and dark. Your lip curled against your will, but you settled your face into a pleasant expression as you closed the door behind you. It wasn't a smile, but injury be damned- if a man wanted to talk to a woman alone in a darkened bedroom, and he was shirtless in bed, it wasn't a good sign. 

That feeling was reinforced by the irritated look he sent your way. Yeah, you really didn't like this asshole. He didn't want you there; he'd wanted Maggie alone. Fuck him, you thought pleasantly, and that allowed you to fake a smile through your teeth.

"Sorry for the gloom. They have me on these antibiotics. They make me sensitive to the sunlight." He coughed a little and groaned. "This is agony. It's like somebody's twisting my intestines with a cement mixer." 

You scoffed. "Shit. That's a pretty good description, yeah."

"I'd almost forgotten you've been stabbed before," Maggie muttered absently. She stood straight and tall at the foot of the bed and stared Gregory down. "It could have been worse. You're lucky we were here. Jesus told you about our offer?" 

Oh, shit, she had not come to play this time, you thought, delighted. You gave into the urge to be obnoxious just because you could and perched on the table, swinging your feet and playing with one of the knicknacks scattered over it. It was some pewter-looking statute thing, and you couldn't have cared less about it. 

"He did. What makes you think you can do what we haven't done?" 

You laughed and set the thing down. "Our eyes. And the fact that we've handled people like them before." 

"How?"

"They're dead," Maggie said firmly. You'd been about to say 'grenade launcher', but her answer was better. "We can get your man back." 

"I don't know if Craig's worth the trouble." 

You groaned and hopped down, striding over to the bed and leaning against the wall to look down into Gregory's beady little eyes. "Cut the bullshit. We have something you need, and that's balls. You give us supplies, we'll save Craig and take care of Negan and the Saviors permanently." 

"I'm sorry, I find this whole conversation pretty funny." Gregory fake laughed, coughed a little, and shifted on the bed. 

Since you had no desire to find out if he was naked under that sheet, which you highly suspected, you wandered back toward Maggie and tried to get your temper back under wraps. 

"I mean, you balked when I proposed that your people work for our supplies, but isn't that exactly what's happening here? I had leverage and I used it. See? It wasn't personal." 

Your hand was wrapped around your knife and you were ready to put Jesus in charge yourself, but Maggie grabbed your wrist without looking at you. 

"Yes. We need food. You have it. We're willing to work for it," she declared, crossing her arms and staring Gregory down. 

When you were sure you wouldn't shoot him between the eyes, you turned back to face him, and the bastard smiled. "Then I'll get supplies for your people. I'll talk to Jesus and he'll make the arrangements. See, this was fun. Exciting," he added suggestively.

Maggie leaned forward over the footboard, her steady expression never changing. "Half. Half of what you have. I saw what happened out there. Negan's expecting more supplies from this place. And more and more. And if it keeps going like that, pretty soon you won't have anything left. What happens then? Without ammo, without fighters… You'd be a dead man." 

If the funeral outside had been muted and swirled, this scene right here- the woman leaning over the footboard, her face set and confident, the man in the bed looking uncomfortable and nervous- would be oil. Rich, bold, high contrast darks and lights, layered together over hours and days, each detail sharp and clear. 

And you'd call it 'Leverage.' 

"So half of everything you have, right now, or the deal's off. You see? I have leverage," she said with a small smile. You didn't bother to hide your own.

Three delivery trucks arriving at once meant absolute chaos. Add in the arrival of both kitchen and wait staff, and you took two seconds from comparing invoices to boxes to question why you'd decided being a manger was a good idea. 

It was in those two seconds that it happened, because of course it was. 

"Get your fucking hands off me!" 

Anika's voice rose furious and fierce from inside the bar and you were moving before you thought. Inside, Anika, Jasmine, and Elise were frozen in various stages of prep, Anika behind the bar with a pairing knife in held on a smirking Gavin. He had his hands up in surrender, and you dropped your clipboard and rounded the bar. 

"What's going on in here? Anika, put the damn knife down," you snapped. 

She turned toward you, her eyes flashing with rage. "Damn it, Ace! He hits on me, won't take no for an answer, and then he grabs my ass when I'm just trying to do my job! Why the fuck is he allowed to come here? I know he does this shit to you, too!" 

You took the knife from her hands before this became an incident that would require bringing Ellie and Ben back from vacation early, but you leveled a death glare at Gavin. "You grab her ass?" 

He shrugged. "Naw. I was stockin' your cooler, might have brushed her. If I did, I'm sorry."

Yeah, he was lying through his teeth. Anika scoffed loudly, looking ready to take him on with her bare hands. You didn't break eye contact with Gavin as you set the knife carefully down beside the limes Anika had be slicing for you. In the chaos, Jason had called and said he was held up at his other gig, and the girls had told you they'd cover your shit until the deliveries were all checked in. 

You should have known this day had started too well. "An, head on out back and have a cigarette." 

"Ace, he-" 

"I know. I'll handle it," you assured her, and she nodded. She flipped Gavin off as she went and he winked at her. 

You really hated this fucker. "Gavin, I can't have you assaulting my staff. Leave the rest of the delivery at the door and get out of here. I'll be calling your boss and requesting a new distributor."

"Whatever. Ben will bring me back," he said with a shrug, crowding into your space as he headed for the door. "He'll believe me over some bitch." 

You didn't think. It was a problem sometimes, with you and your Dixon temper. Mal hated it, and you knew he'd have things to say about this when he found out, but you couldn't help it. This jackass had crossed a line, and he thought he could get away with it. 

"Hey, Gavin," you said when he'd brushed by you. He turned, and your fist slammed right into his nose. He staggered back, yelping, and you smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, did my fist brush your face? Sorry. It was an accident. Now get the hell out of my bar." 

You were pretty sure it was Jasmine who barely contained a laugh.


	68. Lie #68: "Not Drunk Enough." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence

"We really agree to kill a bunch of dudes in exchange for food?" Shane asked Rick, passing a basket of fresh produce up into the RV. He kept half an eye on Ace, talking animatedly to Jesus nearby. Jesus was back in his ninja coat and beanie, and Shane would guess- if he knew his girl- she was already plotting how to steal the thing. 

He might have been jealous, except it was Ace. She laughed, head back, and Jesus smirked at her, then they both bent and grabbed either end of another basket. 

Shane privately admitted he was, in fact, a little jealous. He'd get over it. 

"We did. It's how we eat," Rick said. 

Shane crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at his brother. Rick was already second guessing that decision, he could tell, and Shane had wondered how long it would take before Rick hit crisis mode. "What happened to that idealistic bullshit, man?" 

"I don't know, 22, what happened to your college football career?" 

He whistled, low and almost impressed. "Damn, brother. Go for the kill shot, why don't you? Never said I was arguing about it. They went after Ace once already; they'll find there way to us eventually. I was just asking, are you on board with this? Completely?" 

Rick sighed and squeezed Shane's shoulder, looking out over the Hilltop with a faraway look in his eyes. "Yeah. I'm on board. I have to be." 

They brought back an RV full of supplies, Jesus, Andy (who'd been to the Saviors' compound and would be part of the plan for taking these bastards down), and a sonogram picture of Maggie and Glenn's baby. Shane had squinted at the black and white picture, remembering Rick bringing those damn things in and passing them around the station every time Lori had gone for a new one. He didn't know what to say about them then- it all looked like a Rorschach test to him- and he didn't know what to say now, but he made happy noises and a mental note to check on his Slugger later. Babies were a sensitive subject, and she seemed off even as she beamed at the picture.

Rick called for the town to gather in the church an hour after they got back. The two of them spent that time figuring out what to say, how to approach things. 

"It's gonna be interesting," Shane said with a shrug. "This is different. But we've gotta tell them all." 

"Damn straight ya do," Merle commented from the kitchen. He'd come wandering in while they talked, and sent a serious looked between the two of them. "Cain't try to hide what it is. Do that, and they's gonna balk. We'll have to stage ourselves another coupe, and none of us want that, especially knowing there's a threat out there. Tell 'em up front. Don't pussy-foot around it." 

Shane eyed him. "How do you know?" 

"Shit, pig. You really want the answer to that?" Merle flashed him a grin and raised his bottle in cheerful salute when Shane grimaced. "I didn't think so. It'll be aight, ya bastards. Ya wouldn't believe what people's capable of acceptin' when they see how the wind's blowin'." 

"Why don't I find that reassuring?" Shane muttered. 

"We can work with the Hilltop. Maggie hammered out a deal. We're getting food- eggs, butter, fresh vegetables." Rick stood in front of the pulpit, looking out over most of Alexandria. There were others on the walls still, doing jobs that couldn't be brought to a halt for a meeting, and Shane knew they'd have to go through all this again. 

"But they aren't just giving it away," he told the crowd. "These Saviors are the assholes that tried to kill Ace, Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham on the road. Sooner or later, they're gonna come here, just like those Wolves did. Just like Jesus did." 

Jesus, off to the side and perched on the windowsill, looked like he wanted to object to being lumped in with the Saviors and the Wolves. Shane ignored him, like he ignored Ace and her sketchbook in the front row. He could tell from the way she was glancing up and the furious pencil movements that she was drawing the damn ninja, outlined by the stained glass. 

Yeah, he really wasn't jealous. It was Slugger. But she'd taken a shine to this bastard, and from the way Jesus was trying not to smile and watching her from the corner of his eye, he knew it. 

Shane just didn't trust him completely yet, that was all. 

"They would have killed at least one of us. And then they would try to own us," Rick said grimly. "And we would try to stop them." 

Shane wondered if Ace was going to draw Rick in this moment too, because it seemed like one she'd love. Rick stepped forward, but Shane stayed where he was, leaning against the altar railing. "'Course we would. But if they come, while we're low on food and if we're unprepared, we might lose. This way, we're sure we win."

"We do this for the Hilltop, and this is how we keep this place. It's how we feed this place," Rick said firmly. 

Ace flipped a page in her sketchbook and shifted to face the front, and Shane stuck his tongue out at her as she studied him and Rick. She rolled her eyes and her pencil started flying again. Shane went back to studying faces, comfortable under Ace's scrutiny. He wasn't sure Rick even noticed.

People seemed unsettled, and Shane couldn't blame them. 

"This needs to be a group decision," Rick said firmly. "If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece." 

Merle rolled his eyes and muttered something to Daryl. Ace paused her sketching long enough to smack him on the back of the head, without looking up. "Shut up, asshole," she said. 

"What? I's just sayin', it sounds like ya cop up there getting hitched to his baby daddy, and I got an objection to that seein' as he's shackin' up with my sister!" 

Laughter broke the heavy tension in the room, a muted but much-needed wave of good will. Shane sent his Dixons a grateful look, and tried not to think about just when all three of them had become "his" Dixons. He didn't want to adopt Ace's damn brothers, but somewhere along the way he was afraid he had. 

Then Morgan rose, and everyone turned to look at him. "You sure we can do it? We can beat them?"

"What this group has done- what we've learned, what we've become, all of us- yes, I'm sure," Rick said. 

Morgan nodded. "Then all we have to do is just tell them that." 

"They don't compromise-" Shane started. 

"This isn't a compromise. It's a choice you give them. A way out, for them and us," Morgan interrupted. 

Rick shook his head. "We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety. No. We have to come for them before they come for us. We can't leave them alive."

Morgan sighed. "Where there's life, there's possibility." 

"Yeah, of them hitting us," Shane muttered. 

"Hey, we're not trapped in this. None of you are trapped in this!" 

Ace sighed and looked up from her drawing. "There's no need for yelling, damn it. Sorry, Father. Look, no one is trapped. Rick and Shane said group decision, so group decision. I was on the road when we met them- the Saviors. There is no mercy in them, as a group. So there shouldn't be any in us, either. Not for them. They killed a kid at the Hilltop. Killed a kid and threatened to do worse." 

"Unless we end them, they always come back," Rick said softly. 

"They come back when they're dead, too," Morgan muttered. 

Shane thought about Otis, and he knew Morgan was right. "So do the people you lose because you tried to let everyone live."

Morgan shot him a long look, part glare and part pity, but Shane ignored him. He knew where Morgan stood on the issue; it was everyone else he was concerned with. So far, from what he could tell, people didn't know what to think.

"Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me. We'll talk to the people still at home. We'll discuss it with the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?" Rick asked.

Aaron shot to his feet. "What happened here. We won't let that happen again. I won't." 

No one else spoke and Rick looked at Shane. "Looks like it's settled then. We know exactly what this is. We don't shy from it. We live. We kill them all." 

"We don't all have to kill, but everyone has to accept it," Shane said with a shrug. "There's no hiding from it, alright? Rick and I will go talk to the others." 

Ace caught his hand in hers as he went by, squeezing tightly. Shane wished to hell they could just go home and forget the world for awhile, but he wouldn't leave Rick alone to deal with this. 

They all had to accept it. 

Somehow the family gathered in the Dixon-Walsh house again, and Shane wondered why that was. He didn't mind. He kinda liked it, actually. It was just odd. Shouldn't they have gravitated to Rick's? He was head asshole of this party of freaks, after all. 

Maybe, he thought as the crowd gathered around the dining room table, it was because of Ace. 

She'd finally gotten her hands on the architect's paper she'd been eyeing since they arrived. She'd chased him and Rick down, the ninja man at her side- Shane tried not to grind his teeth together- and said they needed to have a meeting, to plan. She'd had the roll of paper tucked under her arm and a vaguely smug look that made Shane wonder if someone had picked a lock to get it. 

She stood in the center of the table now, paper spread out and weighed down at the edges by cans of cola and bowls of snack food. The bartending urge was strong in his Slugger, he thought fondly. He missed the days when she'd grab a napkin and doodle him something between pouring drinks and serving food. He missed seeing her in her element, that confident, easy grace radiating from her and her hair a riot of color. 

"Describe it," Rick told Andy. 

Andy glanced from Rick to Ace with a pen shoved behind her ear, and he looked confused. Ace sighed. "I did the walls. I'm an artist. Well, I was." 

"Ya still are," Daryl and Merle declared in unison, before Shane could do more than open his mouth. 

He chuckled and shifted Judith in his arms to point at Ace. "What your idiot brothers said." 

"Love ya too, ya damn pig," Merle said cheerfully. 

Ace rolled her eyes and flipped a pencil between her fingers as she turned back to Andy. "Ignore the peanut gallery. Point is, I'm making a map; we're making plans. Describe it." 

He nodded. "Rectangular building, big satellites on it." 

Ace bent over the paper and nodded. "Windows?" 

"Don't remember any. I think they made it so there's only one way in." 

Merle snorted. "There's a backdoor. Least one. There's always a backdoor." 

"Agreed," Shane muttered. "No one traps themselves in. There's always a bolthole."

"Guards outside?" Rick asked.

"Two of them, at least," Andy agreed. "There and there, usually." 

Ace nodded and marked the locations. "Give me more. What's the door made of; the walls? Trees around or cleared? Guards armed or no?" 

"Um." Andy blinked, his forehead scrunched in thought. "Hang on, I don't- I don't know." 

"And you don't know how many people they have, either?" Michonne asked. 

"No," he said slowly. "I mean, no. I saw a place where they stored food." 

Ace shifted over, hip-bumping her brother out of the way. "Interior," she muttered, and sketched in a larger rectangle. "Tell me what you know." 

"The pantry wasn't that big. They had us load in supplies one time. It's a big place, and all I saw was the hallway and the pantry off it. There's more," Andy said. 

"And every time, they had you bring things into here?" Michonne's finger stabbed onto the room Ace had just been filling in with shelves- Shane wasn't sure why, except she couldn't do shit halfway; by there they were- and Slugger looked up with an irritated glare. 

"Watch out there, samurai. Lil sis gonna take that arm clean off. Ya be down to one hand like ol' Merle." 

"Shut up, lump," Michonne fired back, but she moved her hand slowly away from Ace's drawing. "Sorry, Ace." 

Slugger stared flatly at her for another long moment and Shane tried not to laugh. Then Ace turned back to her sketch, her voice reluctant as she spoke. "It's a good question. Did they have you go anywhere else?" 

"Jesus," Andy muttered. 

"He's upstairs, probably pickin' through our shit," Daryl said, so casually it took Shane a minute. 

He turned and stared at Daryl, Judy chewing on a spoon in his arms. "I see she's wearing off on you." 

"Shit, Walsh. I'm older. I wore off on her," he said, twitching his head to send shaggy hair from his eyes. 

"Five minutes, asshole. Five damn minutes. Whatever you remembered, Andy, tell me." Ace leaned on her elbows over the table with a glare at Daryl and an impatient looked at Andy. 

Rick rubbed a hand over his eyes and looked ready to start screaming. Shane passed him Judith to keep him calm, and caught Maggie's smile when she saw what he did. 

"We brought a couple spears for them once. Two of the Saviors took them down this hallway. Now, they must have done something with them, because they didn't bring them back," Andy said, tapping one side of the hallway intersection he'd described to Ace. She nodded, made an arrow and quick sketch of a crossed spear and gun with a question mark that had Andy blinking and Shane trying not to laugh. 

"Maybe a weapons locker, an armory," Jesus offered. 

Shane hadn't heard him come back in the room. "We got anything interesting upstairs?" 

"Merle's a slob," Jesus said easily. "You and Ace aren't." 

"Thanks," Ace muttered, going back to work on the outside. "Check out Maggie and Glenn's place next, would you?" 

"Why us?" Glenn protested. "You know what? Never mind. That's how we end it. We get in there, secure the armory." 

"That's how Carol and Shane ended it here," Maggie agreed. 

"But we don't know if they even have an armory or where it even is." Andy sounded questioning, but not objecting. Shane wondered when he'd gotten on board with the plan, but he was glad to have one less problem to keep an eye on. 

"We got a lot a good guesses. We've done a lot more with less," Daryl said with a shrug. 

Ace scoffed, straightening up from her map. "Carol and I blew up Terminus not knowing anything about it, and we got you all out." 

"Excuse the shit outta me, sis, but we got ourselves out," Merle disagreed. "Ya just provided the distraction." 

"I'd say blowing a propane tank with a firecracker and sending a herd of the undead in to eat everyone was more than just 'a distraction!'" 

"Slugger, please," Shane muttered, wrapping an arm around her as she glared at her brother. "We need a plan." 

She scowled at Merle but sighed. "Fine. Rick?" 

"We go in at night while they're sleeping," Rick said slowly. 

"Guards won't be sleeping. And like I said, I think there's only one way in, and there's no way to bust through that door without waking up the rest of them." 

Ace's head tilted to the side and she suddenly smiled. It was cold and cheerful at the same time, and Shane heard Daryl mutter something to Merle. Ace ignored them to turn that smile between Rick and Shane. "So we get them to let us in." 

Rick's head tilted as well, his hand resting on his gun belt as he studied her. "You've got an idea." 

"Yeah," she agreed. "I do. They want Gregory's head, right? We're gonna give it to them." 

Shane reached over and stole French fries from Rick's Styrofoam tray. Rick slapped at his hand, but Shane had already scored the goods. 

"I don't know, man. Still think I could have-" 

"You could not have played pro, damn it. And you know it, too," Rick snapped, squinting up the street at the well-lit high school football field. Rick and Shane were one of two units covering the homecoming game tonight, and they were parked up the street grabbing a bite while Leon and Lambert held down the fort. 

Shane ate his stolen fries and debated being offended. "Could too." 

"Shit. Thought you were over this by now, 22." Rick pilfered one of Shane's onion rings, and Shane sighed. Payback was payback, though, and Shane snuck another handful of fries while Rick wasn't looking. 

"I am," Shane said. He rubbed a hand over his head and contemplated his second hot dog. "I was hanging with Ace the other night, and- no, we're not dating, so don't say it- and we ended up at her high school. Runnin' around the ball field, you know, cutting up." 

"That's illegal," Rick said mildly. "And I saw that. Keep your fingers out of my fries." 

Shane ignored both comments. "She starts talkin' shit, you know, about cheerleaders, and starts doing one of those dumb cheers. Would've thought she'd been one. All this crap about bein' aggressive." 

"Oh, I remember that one. Lecture after lecture on how violence isn't the answer, but a blonde in a short skirt gets the whole damn school riled up and that's ok." 

"Shit, man," Shane said when he'd stopped choking on stolen fry. "Someone's bitter." 

"I'm not the one reliving glory days and breaking laws to do it. How drunk were you both?" Rick shot back. 

Shane grinned at him. "Not drunk enough. I chased her around the field some, then security caught us. We ran like hell. Point is, I still got it. Why the hell did I quit playing, again?" 

Rick rubbed a hand across his forehead and groaned. "You and that criminal you hang out with are going to send us both to jail, you know that right? You quit playing football when you got your fourth concussion in a month trying to play every position and the coach kicked you off the team." 

"She's fun, though," Shane said with a lazy shrug. "And it wasn't playing. I got that fourth one getting in a fistfight with Rodriguez." 

"Why did you pick a fight with one of your own linebackers?"

Now he was offended. "I didn't pick it. I finished it. He was beating up some kid half his size. What was I supposed to do?" 

Rick groaned again, and the radio crackled. Shane stuffed the rest of the hot dog in his mouth and started collecting trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Good News: I have part 2 (Last Choice Liars) plotted ALL THE WAY TO THE END!
> 
> Bad News (sort of): I also now have a job and a stress level that's reaching almost comical levels. Therefore, just as a warning, chapters might be slow coming. Thank you guys for all the love and for sticking with these two. I adore them and there will be an end to part two AND a part three. They and you all deserve it. So thank you, thank you, thank you, and bear with me while I adjust to yet another new "normal"! -- XOXO, JustRamblinOn


	69. Lie #69: "Ace Likes Nearly Everyone" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence

Shane walked in Rick's living room and frowned at the tv. Carl held the remote, eyes wide with his legs drawn up to his chest and his chin on his knees, and stared at a glorified depiction of a shootout. 

"What the hell do you think you're watching?" Shane demanded when an officer took a shot to the vest and staggered. Carl flinched, and at Shane's words he damn near jumped out of his skin. 

"Hey, Uncle Shane. I was just… uh…" 

Shane plucked the remote from his hands and turned the tv off. "Where's your mom?" 

Carl looked guilty. "Across the street for a few minutes." 

"You think you're allowed to watch that shit just because your mom stepped out?" 

Carl shook his head. "No. I just- I was curious. Do you and dad do things like that?" 

Shit, Shane thought. He shoved a hand through his hair and rounded the couch to sit beside Carl. "Like what, exactly?" 

Carl gestured vaguely toward the tv. "Like that. Get in car chases and shoot people like cops on tv."

"Television isn't real life, little man," Shane said with a grimace. "A real chase and shoot out isn't anything like that." 

Carl's eyes went wide and Shane shoved a hand through his hair again. Shit, that hadn't been the right thing to say at all. "Listen, kiddo," he said, leaning forward and taking Carl's hand. "Sometimes your dad and I get into some things that aren't great. It's dangerous, sure. But the thing you gotta remember, see, is that that's why we ride together. I've got your dad's back, and he's got mine. I'll never let anything happen to him, you hear me? Not as long as I can do something about it." 

Shane woke up with Ace sprawled over him, her toes hooked behind his knee. He tangled his fingers in her hair and tried not to think about what they were doing that day. 

It didn't work. Reality calls, he thought with a sigh. This was going to be a rough one.

They split off into groups a few miles out of Alexandria. He and Slugger headed out together, found an abandoned barn, and somehow ended up fucking, fast, furious, and desperate, against the half-rotted wall. Shane wasn't really sure how it started- just her lips soft and reassuring against his, and then, well- but with her legs locked around him and her teeth set in his shoulder as she shuddered in his arms, he really didn't care how. He was just grateful. 

They found their contribution and Ace's nose wrinkled up as Shane did the dirty work. "Ok, look. I know this was my idea and all, but- ew." 

Shane held a severed walker head by the hair in one hand, grabbed hers with the other, and laughed. 

Rick gave a speech to the assembled troops, going over the plan one more time. "We don't like what we see, we head back. Make a new plan. They don't know who we are. We'll keep Jesus in the shadows. This is how we eat," he said with a shrug and a blank look in his eyes that worried Shane. "This is how we eat." 

"We roll at midnight," Shane added when Rick caught his eye. "Come on, Slugger. Put that eye of yours to good use." 

Ace grimaced, but broke away from her brothers. Merle had been elected to stay behind and guard Alexandria and had promptly declined that invitation, and he was the only one out of their group who didn't seem concerned about what was coming. Where everyone else was subdued and haunted, Merle fucking Dixon was downright cheerful. 

Made Shane wonder how many times he'd done something like this before. He didn't really want the answer. 

Carol and Rick were having an intense debate, and Ace sighed. Shane tossed an arm around her as they wandered toward the front of the RV, where everyone's contributions to the plan were lined up like grotesque mannequins. Ace grimaced, surveying the line of heads. "Why did I think this was a good idea? I'd like to puke now, if no one minds." 

"Go ahead; I ain't gonna judge. Just don't do it inside the place," Shane teased. 

She bit her lip and turned serious eyes his way. "About that." 

He went tense, eyes narrowing. "What?" 

"I think I'm going to hang back," she said slowly. "Guard the perimeter with Maggie." 

Rick walked up behind them as Shane felt an instant wash of relief. "That's what Carol said. I told her it's a race to the armory. We need all the people inside we can get. Ace, you'd be welcome inside. You're fast and quiet." 

She looked torn, and Shane glared at Rick. It wasn't that he was wrong, it was just- well, he wanted Slugger out of danger on the perimeter. And he knew how she'd feel about Maggie being alone out there. 

Carol too, he realized suddenly. Shit. To him, it had been forever since Sophia stumbled out of that barn. To Carol? It probably felt like yesterday. 

Ace's eyes lingered on Maggie. "I can't do it, Rick. I just feel like I need to be out there, with her. I'm not surprised Carol feels the same. Besides, if something does go wrong, we need people on the outside, too." 

Rick shrugged. "Fine. We decide on one of these?" 

Jesus cleared his throat and pointed. "That one." 

"Yeah, gross as this is, I agree." Ace really did look like she might hurl, and Shane rubbed her back a little. "The nose is wrong though." 

"Yeah, it's probably good we're doing this at night," Jesus agreed. "Gregory's is a different shape." 

Rick glanced at Shane and shrugged. He picked up the head by the hair, squinted at it, and punched it a couple of times. Shane smothered a laugh, but Ace gagged and turned to press her face into his neck. 

"God, Rick!" she muttered. 

"He fought back," Rick said dryly. "What?" 

"Guess there's no reason to be subtle about it," Jesus agreed. 

Andy looked downright disturbed. "The Saviors? They're scary, but those pricks got nothing on you," he said, staring Rick straight in the eyes. 

Shane snorted. "And he didn't even see you bite that dude's throat out." 

"You ever gonna let that one go?" Rick complained. 

"Naw, probably not." 

Somehow, it worked. Andy pulled his shit together, the fake head fooled the guards, the prisoner was brought out battered and bruised but alive, and Shane crouched in the hallway with the Dixons at his back and jimmied the lock on a door. He was hoping for the armory; he got a room full of sleeping Saviors. 

Maggie was right. It cost them something.

Us or them, he reminded himself as he looked down into the first face. Whatever it takes. 

Didn’t make it any easier, and he said another quick prayer of thanks to the universe in general that Ace had decided to guard the perimeter. She didn't need to be here for this shit. Hell, he didn't want to be here for this shit, and he wondered how the rest of their people would take it. 

This wasn't a firefight. This wasn't a battle for survival. The angels and the long arm of the law weren't on their side, he thought as he flung blood off his knife and didn't focus on the now-slack face in the bed. 

This was killing, and Shane found himself wondering all over again if this was always who he'd been. Had the apocalypse made the man, or had the man always been a monster? 

They moved faster and quieter for far longer than he'd honestly thought they'd get away with. He hadn't anticipated them getting in the door, if he was being truly honest, and he wondered if Rick hadn't been braced for the same lack of success that Shane was.

So when it finally fell apart, he'd been waiting for it. 

The fire alarm blared, and Shane looked down into eyes that went wide with fear. The Savior in the bed shot halfway upright and Shane slammed the knife blade up and under his chin. 

His eyes glazed over and he slumped back. 

"Come on, Walsh, gotta find them guns," Merle said grimly. 

The firefight broke out before they'd made it into the hall. 

Rick sighed. "I don't know, Lor." 

Shane looked politely out the window and tried to pretend he didn't know damn well that Lori and Rick were fighting. He wondered what was going on this time, and if Lori was still blaming him over their basement flooding last week. Shane had fixed their sink, damn it. That shit was not his fault. 

"No. No, I'm- yes. Mmhhmm," Rick agreed, and Shane glanced over to find Rick's jaw tight, his eyes closed with his head tipped back against the headrest. "No. Look, Lori, I'm in the car. We're on the job; I have to go." 

Shane went back to watching the back door of the house. There was another unmarked car out front, doing the same thing Rick and Shane were right now, and Shane drummed the steering wheel with his fingers and hummed tunelessly. 

He wanted a runner when this thing went down. Give him something to do. He was bored and restless.

"Yes. I'll call you in a little while. I love- well, shit." The last part was hissed as Rick looked at his phone and rolled his eyes. 

Shane winced. "She hang up on you?" 

"Not exactly," Rick muttered. "Shit, I need a beer tonight. You down?" 

"Always," Shane said easily. "Going to Atlanta again?"

Rick snorted. "You heard that phone call. Think I can justify going to Atlanta?" 

"Think maybe you'd be wise not to try." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "Got movement." 

Shane watched as the back door opened, and a lone man stepped out. Hoodie up, hands in his pockets, he kept his head down in the light rain and didn't look around as he left the back yard and headed up the street. 

Rick called it in and Shane kept the guy in his sights in the rear view mirror. 

When the car came around the corner, Shane didn't think anything of it. He was still watching the hoodie, knowing Leon and Lambert were set up two blocks away to scoop up any runners. It was only because he was paying attention that he saw the window roll down and the gun come out.

"Shit! Rick, gun!" he yelled, grabbing for the radio as the first pops sounded and the man fell. "Get down, brother. Shots fired! Shots fired!" 

It was over as abruptly as it began, with Glenn and Heath taking the armory. Shane stood and stared into it at the racks of guns and ammo, and he glanced at Rick when his brother joined him in the doorway. 

"At least we got the armory." 

Rick sighed, rubbing a blood-stained hand over his eyes. "Yeah. I guess there's that. Daryl found the back door." 

"They said there'd be one," Shane said with a shrug. "Anyone escape?" 

"Not that we've seen. Come on. They've got a bunch of vehicles out back, and we need to let the others know it went ok." 

They fell into step and Shane rubbed at his head. "Did it go ok? You ok, man?" 

"Sure," Rick said slowly. "Jesus came inside." 

"Why am I not surprised?" Shane muttered. "Do we trust him?" 

"He killed Saviors. Didn't kill us. Ace likes him."

Shane scoffed. "Ace likes nearly everyone." 

"That's fair," Rick muttered.

Sunlight surprised him when he ducked out the back and into the field. Tara and Heath picked out a vehicle, some short version of a RV that would be damn perfect for the long run they were making toward the coast. After the usual round of hugging, Shane and Rick opened the back gate to let them out.

Shane almost wanted to grab Slugger and run away with them. Speaking of Slugger, he thought, and trilled one of their hunting calls they'd taught them all on the road. 

A revving engine drowned him out and everyone turned, hair-trigger nerves after everything that had happened that night. Shane drew and tracked the bike, but Rosita took the shot. The bike wrecked and the asshole on it went down. 

"Son of a bitch! That's my fuckin' bike!" Dixon yelled, running for the man trying to climb to his feet. "What the hell?"

He was on top of the guy and punching away, and Shane exchanged a look with Merle. "You gonna stop that, or am I?" 

Merle scoffed. "Shit, pig. Let him have his fun. It's his goddamn bike, ain't it?" 

Shane rolled his eyes and walked over as Daryl yelled a question and punched the guy again. He clicked the hammer back on his gun and leveled it at the asshole's bleeding face, and the dickbag laughed. 

"Just do it! Like you did everyone else, right?" he yelled, eyes wild. 

Shane looked at Rick, who shrugged. Rick had the Python pointed at the asshole's head as well, that look in his eyes that said he wasn't all there right now, and Shane spared a minute to worry about that shit. But fuck it, the asshole was right. They'd killed them all, so they might as well take him out, too, right? That was the plan, anyway. 

He had a finger on the trigger when a radio squawked. "Lower your gun, prick. Both of you, the Glock and the Colt Python. All of you, actually. Lower your weapons right now."

Rick grabbed the radio by the asshole's head as he and Shane went back to back. Rick kept the Python on the asshole, and Shane glanced around the group. Everyone had their guns up and their eyes moving, closing in on each other and most of them going back to back. Merle looked damn grim as he glanced Shane's way, and sudden cold washed over him. 

Slugger was out there.

"Come on out," Rick said into the radio. "Let's talk."

"We're not coming out, but we will talk." The woman's voice sounded almost amused, and that cold feeling spread as the radio clicked again. "We've got a Carol and a Maggie and-"

Shane's eyes closed. There was a slight scuffle, a muffled grunt of pain, and the words Shane had been dreading. 

"- and an angry one who thinks she doesn't have to do as she's told. Tell me your name, or you're going to get hit again." 

Shane turned to stare at Rick, eyes hard and pissed, as Merle started cussing up a blue streak behind him. 

"Ace. I like her. So don't do anything stupid. Let's chat."


	70. Lie #70: "I'll Bet We Did." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
mentions of past domestic violence  
mentions of past miscarriage and infertility

So, the good news was you were alive, you decided, eyes closed and cheek throbbing from being backhanded in the woods. The backhand was your fault, and you'd spat blood into the bastard's face and the redhead had laughed. You could apparently still take a punch, so that was also good news. In a way. 

The bad news, on the other hand. You forced your eyes open to take stock of the situation, hoping maybe something had changed. 

It hadn't. 

You were gagged, hands and feet duct taped, and in an old slaughterhouse. Maggie sat across from you, bound and gagged the same, and looking pissed as hell. There were four Saviors, as far as you had seen- the redhead in charge, the older woman, the younger woman, and the asshole Carol had shot in the arm- and they had backup on the way. 

And you were pretty sure Carol was dead, but you were trying not to think about that too hard. 

Somewhere between getting hit in the face for refusing to give your name, your coats being thrown over your heads while you were frog-marched to a vehicle at gunpoint, and being put into said vehicle, there'd been a scuffle, some yelling, and a single gunshot. 

When the coat had come off your eyes, it was just you and Maggie. 

You forced back the horror and grief, ignoring the thickness of unshed tears in your throat. You had to keep it together. You had to get Maggie out of here unharmed. 

As soon as Paula- the redhead- drug the walker out and delivered what you considered a fairly sub-par threat, you and Maggie sprang into action. There were rosary beads hooked over your boot from the dead bastard, and you curled your legs up so you could reach them. Maggie had gotten up to look around, found nothing, and begun using the corner of a cinder block to try to break the duct tape. 

You inspected the point on the truly horrifying Jesus on the cross dangling from the beads, got a little queasy at the sight of it, and fumbled it into your pocket. In a pinch, you could probably make it a weapon. 

At the very least, you could strangle someone with it. 

The gunfire outside ended and you and Maggie both scrambled back to your original positions before the doors burst open. 

"When's the last time anyone checked this place?" Paula demanded irritably. She supported the asshole as the four of them came in, arguing over the lack of guns, food, and the presence of walkers. 

"Jesus, it's still bleeding. It's not supposed to keep bleeding! I'm not losing it!" The asshole's voice was panicked, a chaotic counterpoint to Paula's almost detached calm as she kept working to fix his arm. 

You started yelling around your gag, trying to get their attention. "Hey! Hey! Damn it, listen to me! Hey!" 

Paula cut off her argument with him about making the trade to get their man back from your people, stalking over to you with pissed-off eyes. She yanked the gag from your mouth. "What?" 

You licked dry lips and worked moisture back into your mouth. "He's going to lose that arm if you don't do something." 

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" 

You didn't look at where she'd been using rope and stick to cut off blood flow to his lower arm. "The wrong thing." 

"Are you looking to die?" The younger woman, in a biker vest, leveled her gun at your head as she asked it. 

You shrugged. "No, but it doesn't matter what happens to me. Don't hurt Maggie." 

Maggie mumbled something around her gag and you shot her a glare. 

"Shut up, damn it. We both told you not to be out here, but here you are. I'm going to keep you and that baby alive, ok?" you snarled, not really thinking. 

All eyes turned slowly toward Maggie and you winced. Shit. Shit, damn, fuck. Well, the good news was, it was mostly women here, so maybe you hadn't just painted a bigger target on Maggie's back. Paula pulled the gag from Maggie's mouth as the asshole sneered. 

"She got a bun in the oven, she don't look it." 

"I'm only about two months," Maggie muttered. 

"You're some kind of stupid, to get knocked up at a time like this," Paula said dryly. "You think that's funny?" 

"When was it ever smart to get knocked up?" Maggie asked with a shrug and a glare. "Women used to just die in childbirth, and they always thought the world was going to end. Living through it, why would you just give up?" 

"But are you gonna live through it?" Paula asked, tilting her head. "That's cute. Babies are the point. Children are our future. Making bite-sized snacks for the dead." 

"God, why would you say that?" you snapped, thinking about Shane's face when he described seeing Judith's blood-spattered car seat in the prison; Sophia stumbling out of the barn; Mika with Lizzy standing over her. "Shit." 

"You wanna be gagged again?" Paula demanded, glaring at you over her shoulder. "The point is to stay standing, in this world." 

"No. Walkers do that," Maggie said softly. "I'm choosing something."

"That's right. You are. You did." Paula turned and left the room without another word, but the younger woman was staring at Maggie, a strange look in her eyes. 

According to Molly, the older woman, cigarettes had already killed her and she was a dead woman walking. You'd learned that when she lit up, the younger woman had objected, and Molly had declared that they had bigger problems than second hand smoke. You'd mouthed off about them killing her, and she'd laughed after she finished trying to cough up a lung and showed you blood on her handkerchief. You decided you'd officially quit smoking today.

According to Paula, her rescue team was thirty minutes out. According to Maggie, Donnie's arm didn't have that long and they should talk to Rick and get their man Primo back. According to Donnie, this was somehow all your fault. 

You weren't sure how, since Carol had been the one who shot him. 

"That bitch you let escape was bad enough, but she wouldn't have gotten the shot in if we hadn't been distracted taking this one down. And there she sits, right as rain. Kill 'em both, if you're not going to make the trade!" 

You looked beyond him to Maggie's wide eyes, used to blustering angry men all up in your space. He'd hit you or he wouldn't, and you'd take it either way. Shane could kill him slowly for you later, if you couldn't handle it yourself. Carol had escaped. Carol wasn't dead. 

You wanted to laugh. Molly was right- she was a dead woman walking, as were the rest of them. Shane, your brothers, Rick, and Carol were all on their trail. You just had to stay alive and keep Maggie unharmed long enough for them to find you. 

Paula and Donnie were disagreeing over whether or not to kill you or shoot you in the arm as well, and Donnie stared at Paula with hard eyes and an expression that chilled you. "You really gonna stick up for some bitch over me?" 

"Shut up!" Paula said, sounding bored with the whole thing. 

Out of nowhere, Donnie hauled off and punched her. You watched as she fell hard, knowing full well that even shot, this asshole packed a punch. You braced yourself  
when he turned to you, but Maggie went on the attack. 

She swept her legs into his, knocking him back, and he spun and grabbed her by the hair. He hauled her up and she cried out, but you were on the move now. Maggie headbutted him as you scrambled to your knees and used both hands to hit him right in the bullet wound on his arm. 

Merle had told you when you were kids- "it ain't never a fair fight, little sister. Hit 'em where it hurts, 'cause they sure as fuck will."

He screamed, dropped Maggie- which had been the goal- and sent you crashing onto your side. You curled into a ball and protected your head, taking the first kick to the spine and feeling all the air go out of your lungs with it. The second connected and you wondered how bad you were going to get hurt today, and then he was gone. 

You stayed where you were as Paula scoffed. "You really are some kind of stupid. Take her out. See if she knows anything." 

"No!" You rolled, struggling back up to your knees. Paula had a hand pressed to her face and hard eyes as the younger woman cut the duct tape on Maggie's legs. "Not Maggie! I'll go!" 

"Shut up," Paula snapped. "Or I'll shoot her right here. One will do, if you people are as bleeding-heart as you seem." 

"He got you good, honey," Molly said softly, dabbing at the cut and swelling bruise on Paula's face. 

"He's in pain. Guys can't handle pain." 

You half-laughed, then winced cause shit, in pain or not, Donnie there could kick as well as hit. "Yeah, no shit. Thanks. For the save." 

"Shut the fuck up," Paula snapped. "Didn't do it for you. Did it cause he hit me." 

You shrugged as best you could with your hands still bound. "Same result. He's down, and I'm not." 

Paula smiled slightly. "I do like you. It's a shame you work for the other side. You'd make a good Savior." 

The radio on her belt crackled with static, and Rick's voice was music to your ears. "Have you thought about it? Talk to me." 

"You weren't listening," Paula answered, turning away from you with the smile dropping like it'd never been there. "I said I'd contact you." 

"Would it make a difference if I said I'm sorry for that?" 

Rick, you snarky bastard, you thought, trying not to smile. Molly eyed you like she wanted to ask what you found so funny, but Paula was answering Rick. 

"What do you think?" 

"I think we're gonna make the trade, especially now that we have Carol back. Shot your man, didn't she? He's gotta be in trouble by now. Tell me where." 

Paula scoffed and glanced at you. "I should have let Donnie kill that bitch, shouldn't I? We haven't agreed to that," she added into the radio. 

"You will." 

"I'm not so sure. We'd be taking most of the risk, not getting much in the way of reward," she argued. 

"The other option won't work out for you." Rick's voice was a cold promise and you didn't bother to hide your smile. 

"We'll take our chances." Paula hooked the radio back into her belt and stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the wall and thinking. 

You shifted, leaning forward. "You know, you don't have to do this. You should just make the damn trade." 

"Your people killed all of my people! Of course we gotta fight!" Molly sneered. 

You scoffed. "Your people ambushed us on the road and tried to steel our shit. You'd have come after us eventually." 

"So, you people are what happened to T's group. Fair play. You were just defending yourselves. But see, your people killed them on the road, right? Blew them to pieces. So why not stop?" Paula asked it slowly, her eyes on you. She was smart, you thought. Cold and scary, but smart. 

You decided to try your hand at getting some information of your own. Paula liked you, and wheedling things out of people was your specialty, after all. You shrugged again. "They said they were working for Negan."

"What do you think you know about Negan?" 

"If he wants our shit, he won't stop coming. So we had to stop him," you said with a shrug. "I'd bet we did."

"Sweetie, sweetie," Molly said slowly, waving a cigarette. "We are all Negan." 

Just what the hell did that mean?

Molly lit her second cigarette from the butt of her first, and you gave up and gave in. "Hey. Can I have one?" 

She paused and looked at you, surprise in her face. "Thought you didn't like 'em." 

"Never said that. Just said they'd kill you," you muttered. "I smoke. Have most of my life. Thought about quitting, when you tried to cough out a lung." 

Molly chuckled and set a cigarette to your lips, lighting it for you. "These things'll kill you."

"Yeah, well. Something will eventually," you muttered, blowing smoke and shifting to try to ease some of the strain on your back. You were going to have a spectacular bruise where he'd kicked you. Shane was going to try to ground you until it healed. "Thanks." 

"'Something will eventually'," Paula echoed. "I like that. I almost hate that it's going to be me who kills you." 

"Maybe I'll kill you instead," you said with a shrug. 

Paula and Molly both laughed. "You're all tied up, sweetheart. I think I'm safe." 

"Maybe," you agreed. "Then again, you don't know me. Don't know what I did before. Don't know what I've done since."

She stared at the window, eyes distant. "I was a secretary before. I fetched coffee for my boss and made him feel good about himself. I spent most of my days reading stupid inspirational emails to try and feel good about myself. There was this one that kept going around. A young woman was having a hard time and told her mom she wanted to give up, so her mom went to the kitchen and started boiling three pots of water." 

"Carrot in one, egg in one, coffee in the last?" you muttered, lifting an eyebrow. You might have read that email a time or two yourself. Ellie liked inspirational bullshit like that. 

God you missed the Lullaby. You and Jason had spent endless hours teasing her about that kind of thing, and coming up with your own wild stories to deliver in solemn voices when she got pissed off about things around the bar. She couldn't stay mad at you for long.

"Carrot comes out soft, egg comes out hard, and the coffee beans changed the water itself," Paula agreed, sneer curling her lip. "You're supposed to want to be the coffee beans." 

"I never liked coffee much." But Shane did. Him and his gold-dust coffee beans. Hurry the fuck up, Dickhead. I can only stall so long, and I don't know what's happening with Maggie. 

Paula laughed. "Me neither. To me, coffee was just a thing that my boss would drink up. No matter how many times I refilled his damn cup, it was just never enough. I was at work when the Army took over DC. We weren't allowed to leave. Had to evacuate all the important people first- members of Congress, government employees." 

You thought about Deanna and her family. "Yeah. That sounds about right." 

"I was stuck with my boss. Not my family- my husband, my four girls." Her lip trembled as she turned away, the first chink the armor you'd seen yet. 

Oh yeah, she was the egg, you thought. Went in brittle, came out hard. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up. My boss was weak and stupid and he was going to die and he was going to take me down too. He was the first person I killed, so that I could live. I stopped counting when I hit double digits. That's right around the time I stopped feeling bad about it too. I'm still me, but better. I lost everything, and it made me stronger. I'm not worried about you." She stood, looking down at you, hands on her hips. 

You took another long drag, not saying anything until she turned away. "I was in the hospital when it got bad. My brothers got me out. My ex had beat the shit out of me for getting a restraining order." 

Molly scoffed. "Men." 

"Yeah," you agreed dryly. "My boyfriend calls him a fucking cockroach. He's right. Asshole survived it all, and ended up beating the shit out of me again after the world ended. He was the first person I killed. No, wait. That isn't true," you said softly. 

Paula turned and looked at you. "So who was it? If it wasn't him? And how bad of luck do you have to have, to find the same asshole after the world falls apart?" 

"Oh, I have shit luck," you agreed with a humorless laugh. "Good thing I believe in making my own, right? First person I killed was the baby. My old man didn't like me smarting off; knocked me into the counter. I was seventeen. Lost the baby a few hours later. Can't have kids now." 

"You do have shit luck," Molly muttered. "Damn." 

You blew smoke and smiled coldly at Paula. "If anything happens to Maggie or her baby, you'll wish you'd died with your boss." 

Paula smiled slightly. "I doubt that. But you could try." 

"Don't doubt it. By the way, you're wrong. You're not stronger. You're harder. There's a difference," you whispered. "You'll figure it out, but by then it'll be too late."

Paula agreed to make the trade with Rick. It was a trap, and you knew it. She paced, shaking her head. 

"There should have been static. There was no static. They're close. They're probably already here. We were careful but there were tracks; there had to be." 

You started laughing again, knowing it was almost over. She was right about the static, and that meant one cop and two overprotective assholes were going to barge in any minute. You couldn't wait. You were tired and ready to go home. "There were. There are always tracks. And if there were, my brother can find them." 

"Shit. They're probably waiting outside for us to come out," Paula snarled, grabbing for her radio. She toggled to another channel and checked in with her rescue team. 

"We're a few minutes away, but the car's running on fumes." 

"We have gas. We'll fill you up, then we move. Radio when you're back in the perimeter," she instructed, rubbing her forehead. "We gotta get ready. Pull 'Chelle out so she doesn't get caught in the fight. Leave the girls for now. If we leave, we travel light. And if the pricks are here, we'll pick 'em off at the door." 

They left you alone, and you flicked ash from the cigarette and glanced at the unconscious asshole on the floor. Shit, maybe he was dead. You didn't know, and honestly, you didn't care. 

"Finally, some alone time," you muttered, and scooted toward him. He had a knife on his belt, and that'd be faster than the crucifix in your pocket. 

"Paula, Paula, you are an idiot," you muttered, peeling duct tape from your legs. "Never, ever leave the prisoner unattended. Knots untie, you know." 

Jesus would appreciate that, you thought. Hell, so would Maggie. You'd tell her when you got her out. 

When you found her, she was working on an escape plan of her own. You sliced the tape off her legs and her arms, and she grabbed you in a hug. "You ok?"

"I'm fine. I'm going to get you out, then I'm going to take them down. They're scattered, so we can sneak you past," you told her urgently. 

Maggie shook her head. "No. I'm going to help you finish this." 

"Their backup will be here soon. It's too dangerous," you said firmly. "You have to get out and find Rick. Get them here, and I'll handle these three." 

"If they've got backup coming, that's too many for you to take on alone," Maggie insisted. "Ace. You're not going to get rid of me unless you knock me out, and that'll defeat the purpose. Don't argue, and lets go." 

You sighed. "Damn it, Rhee." 

"You sound like Shane." 

Molly was easy. You let Donnie handle it for you. That was Maggie's idea. 

The killing floor and the fire were yours, a page from Carol's horrifying book. You flicked ash from your cigarette as they came inside, trying not to think too hard about how shoving Paula onto the spike had felt or the way her face looked when the walker ripped half her cheek off. You'd already told Maggie she needed to visit Hilltop's doctor, to get checked over, just in case. 

She had a rip in her shirt from that bitch Michelle, but Maggie swore she was fine. Your hands still shook, and you had a feeling you would be having anxiety over Maggie Rhee for this entire pregnancy. It was going to be a long seven months. 

You'd done a decent Paula impression on the radio, splashed gasoline around the kill floor, and now you watched the trio of dead men walking move past. Maggie grabbed the door and hauled it closed, and you flicked the cigarette into the room. 

"Waste of a good smoke," you muttered, trying to block out the screaming. You swallowed hard, and Maggie had the same vaguely queasy look on her face. "You puke, I will too," you warned. 

"Let's just go," she whispered. 

"Yeah," you agreed, and reached for her hand. "We had to." 

"I know. Doesn't make it easier." 

You thought about that as you made your way toward the exit, looking away from the body of Michelle as you passed. Maggie started stabbing walkers, including the one formerly known as Paula, and you smashed the head of one on the floor. 

Actually, you thought, it did make it easier. It wasn't a choice- them or you. Whatever it takes.


	71. Lie #71: "I Hate You" - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence

It was maybe the third time Shane had been to her apartment, so when he knocked on the door and there was no answer, he wasn't exactly sure what to do. He fished his phone out of his pocket and texted her, then leaned against the wall to wait. 

He could hear music inside, so he knew she was home. After a bit, he knocked again, harder. 

When there still wasn't an answer, he shrugged and tried the doorknob. It opened, and he stuck his head in, ready to yell at her about both not answering and leaving her door unlocked. That shit wasn't safe, no matter how good of a punch she packed, damn it. 

The words died on his lips and he stared instead. 

She was painting. A drywall slab leaned against the wall, and she stood on a step stool in bare feet, a man's t shirt, and little else as far as he could tell. Paint covered her fingers, there was a streak on the back of her thigh, and he could see it on her toes and the soles of her feet when she rose on tiptoe to make a pass with the air gun. 

He hadn't seen her work before, and he leaned in the open doorway to watch, not wanting to break her concentration. Music played, syrupy-sweet and loud, and she sang about every third line as she sat down the contraption in her hand and picked up another one. She held her palm out and pumped the trigger, testing the flow of the paint, and he bit his lip when she then immediately swiped the hand she'd just sprayed against her bare leg and went back on her toes. 

"Shit, Slugger, you need a bigger ladder. And to lock your damn door," he called. 

She didn't even twitch, and he sighed when he realized she hadn't heard him at all. Not because he wasn't loud enough. Just because her focus was so intense on what she was doing, he didn't think she was aware of the world around her at all. 

He stepped into the apartment, closed her door- loudly- and locked it. She kept painting. The song changed as he toed off his boots and her voice lifted with it, and he went into her kitchen and poured himself and her both a drink. 

When she finally noticed he was in the goddamn room, he had a feeling she'd probably punch him. Oh well, he could take a hit, even from Slugger. 

It wasn't until after she turned, looked right at him, and screeched fit to wake the dead that he realized he didn't even know what the hell she was painting. He'd been too busy watching her to look at it.

Shane didn't know who came closer to shooting the asshole in the face when the bitch on the radio said Ace's name, him or Daryl. He did know his finger was on the trigger when Merle's hand slapped down over his Glock and lowered it. 

"Easy, pig," he muttered, voice and eyes cold and hard. "We need him." 

"Naw, we don't," Daryl snapped. 

"Shut up, little brother. You kill him, Rick ain't got a bargaining chip. Now cool ya asses, both of ya. Sis is tough shit, she can handle a blow. We'll get all three of 'em soon's enough." 

Shane stared at the grinning Savior while Rick tried to work out a deal and Shane's blood roared in his veins. "I hate you." 

"Naw, you don't," Merle disagreed. "Hate that I'm right." 

"Yeah," Shane said slowly. "Yeah." 

She didn't agree to the trade; not that Shane was surprised. Said she needed to think about it, and she'd be in touch. 

He looked at Rick. "They're on the move." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed. "They are." 

"We killing this asshole?" 

"Nope," Rick said slowly. "We aren't." 

"Then what the hell's your plan, brother? They've got Slugger," Shane snarled. 

"And Maggie, and Carol," Glenn agreed grimly. "Rick, what are we doing?" 

Rick looked from Shane to the asshole to Merle and Daryl. 

The Dixons picked up the trail. The asshole got a broken nose and a split lip and didn't give them any information. Rick refused to let Shane kill him. 

He thought about doing it anyway. 

Carol came out of the trees with blank eyes and blood on her shirt. "Come on. This way." 

Every time the radio crackled Shane listened for her voice, but the bitch on the other end was too good to let Ace be heard. Yeah, Shane was worried about Maggie too, but for the most part he had one single thought and that was to get his Slugger out of there. He knew she'd be too damn busy worrying about Maggie and the baby to worry about herself, so it was up to him. 

The place was burning. Shane could smell it. Daryl and Merle both stopped, glanced at each other, and started forward again without waiting for Rick's signal. 

"What is it?" Shane asked. 

Daryl tossed hair from his eyes and nodded toward the slaughterhouse. "Cain't ya smell it? Burned bodies, in the fire." 

Shane strode past him and right up to the damn door. Glenn was at his side, rifle at the ready when Shane slid the door open, and- 

"Slugger." He whispered it, relief washing him like a drug as he reached for her. 

She and Maggie stood just inside the door, both of them spattered with blood. Maggie had a knife gripped in shaking hands and Ace held a gun rock steady that she let fall to the floor as she tossed her arms around him, and Shane pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. 

"You ok? Both of you, you ok?" he demanded, looking wildly over to where Maggie was clutched in Glenn's arms. 

"We're ok," Maggie said firmly. 

"Ya start a fire? Sis?" Daryl demanded, pushed past to clear the hall further up with Merle. 

Ace shivered, but she straightened in his arms and shoved a hand through her hair. "Yeah. They're dead. The ones who took us, they're all dead- Carol! Thank god," she whispered, eyes going over Shane's shoulder. "I thought- I thought." 

"Sorry. I got a chance; had to make a run for it." Carol's voice was still dull and not right, but Ace beamed at her anyway. 

"I know. Someone needed to. Just glad you're ok. I was afraid he'd shot you." 

Rick walked the asshole in at gunpoint and Ace's eyes went hard. Shane tucked her against his side and glared. "Can we kill him now?" 

"Your friends are dead. No one's coming for you. So you might as well talk," Rick offered to the guy. "My partner there, he wants your head. No one messes with his girl. Glenn probably feels much the same. His wife? Is pregnant. And your people threatened her. Shit, I should let them have you, shouldn't I?" 

"Let him burn," Daryl snarled. 

Shane nodded agreement even as Ace's face screwed up like she wanted to object. Rick leaned in close to the asshole. "I'm gonna ask you one last time… how'd you get the bike?" 

"What bike?" Ace asked, stiffening in his arms. "Dar?"

"We found it," the asshole said softly. 

"Like hell you did!" Daryl snapped. "My bike, sis." 

"What the- Primo, how the fuck did you get the bike?" Ace demanded. 

The prisoner's head whipped to her and he stared. "You know my name?" 

"Yeah," she said with a shrug. "Your pal Donnie really wanted you to fix his arm before he died. Paula didn't give much of a shit what Donnie wanted, or about you. How'd you get the bike?" 

"We found it." 

She stepped away from Shane and he let her go, shooting a look Rick's way and shrugging slightly at the question in his brother's eyes. Ace stalked over and got up in the asshole's- Primo, apparently- face. "Was Negan in that building last night or was he here?" 

Primo smiled. "Both. I'm Negan, shithead. There's a whole world of fun that we can talk about, so let's have a chat." 

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," Rick said, voice flat as he whipped the Python up and fired. 

Ace's face paled as Primo fell with a bullet between the eyes, but Shane just nodded. "Let's go home, folks." 

She was quiet. Shane was worried. She'd curled against his side on the ride home, holding Daryl's hand loosely in hers when her twin dropped down close on her other side, and he was pretty sure she'd fallen asleep for awhile. Home again, she looked exhausted and disturbed, and a glance Daryl and Merle's way showed he wasn't the only one who thought so. Both Dixon boys were subdued as well, and Shane found himself missing their cheerfully pissed-off voices sniping at each other. 

Daryl dropped a plate in front of Ace and grunted "eat, sis" at her. 

She wrinkled her nose, staring at it. "I don't know that I can." 

"Yeah, well, ya gonna," he fired back. "Too fuckin' pale. Eat." 

"Scared us, little sister," Merle said lightly. "The fuck you let that bitch get the drop on ya?" 

"Hey, you set off the damn alarms. They came out of nowhere," she muttered, but she'd started picking at the food. "Everything go ok inside, by the way?" 

She looked a little less lost when she asked that, shoving in another bite and looking at the three of them. Shane grimaced and rubbed a hand over his head, not really wanting to remember the first half of their nightmare day. 

"Went smooth as chocolate for awhile," Merle said. He shrugged and munched on an apple. "Then's it all went to hell, as it does. We made it out; them Savior assholes didn't. It's all good, lil sis." 

"That report leaves a lot of gaps," Ace muttered, but she didn't press. She took another bite, made a face, and set the fork down. "That's really all I can handle. Sorry, Darrie." 

"Whatever," Daryl muttered. He grabbed the fork and started on it himself, and Shane felt himself smile. That was better. It was starting to feel like normal. 

Ace frowned and picked at dried blood on her arm. "I feel disgusting, and I'm exhausted. Anyone object to a shower, a nap, and a day of doing absolutely nothing that isn't essential?" 

"Suit yourself," Merle said. "Imma hit the wall awhile. Maybe go drag that tank drivin' bastard out for some clean-up fun around the expansion. We's still got shit to do, even if we's got food now. Gonna have to have somethin' else to trade with the ninja man for, right?" 

Shane snorted. "Don't tell me you're thinking about the good of the group." 

"Well, shit, pig. I'm offended. Ol' Merle's always had the good of this here group of assholes in the forefront of my mind!" 

Ace and Daryl burst into laughter at the same time, and Shane shot Merle a smirk. The other man grinned back and winked luridly, already slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Shitheads. Let the girl rest, Officer Pig. She don't need a workout, ya here?" 

"Just go kill some walkers, damn it. Stay out of trouble." Shane rolled his eyes as Merle laughed again, slamming the door on his way out. "Come on, Slugger. Shower and a nap? Dixon, got plans?" 

"Yeah, I plan to not be in here. Imma check in with Rick." 

"You two act like Shane and I are going to fuck in the living room or something." Irritation dripped from Ace's tone and Shane smothered a smile as she kissed Daryl's cheek and stomped up the stairs. "We're not that bad, damn it." 

"Yeah, ya are-"

"Naw, we kinda are, sweetheart-" 

She flipped them both off and disappeared muttering. Shane turned to Daryl and waited. 

Dixon jerked his head in the direction of Rick's house. "I'm headin' over there. Look, what that asshole said, bout bein' Negan? Ya believe him?" 

"No," Shane admitted. "And I don't think Rick did either." 

"Good. Man ain't stupid. See what she knows. Need to have a meetin'- us, Rick and Michonne, Maggie and Glenn, Carol. Jesus. Somethin' don't sit right." 

She was in the shower already, standing motionless under the spray with her eyes closed. Water pooled faintly pink at her feet as Shane stripped off his clothes and stepped in as well. She stirred, opening her eyes with a sigh. 

He tipped her chin and studied the bruise on her cheek, trying not to think about other times he'd seen her marked and bloody. He swept his lips over it, then over hers. "Scared me," he whispered. "Stop that." 

She huffed out a faint laugh, leaning in against him. "Scared myself a little. I mean, not at the time. All I was thinking about was Maggie. Don't get pissed." 

"Shit, sweetheart, you think I didn't know that already?" He did. He knew it. That's part of why he'd been so goddamn worried. Slugger would have been doing everything, taking every hit or threat, just to keep them from laying a finger on Maggie. 

She said she was over losing that baby, back when she was a teenager, but she wasn't. 

He handed her the shampoo and stepped under the water himself. She looked at the bottle, not opening it, and he watched her. "Slugger?" 

She shook her head. "I lured three people into a room, set it on fire, and locked them in." 

"Yeah. You did," he agreed steadily. He took the shampoo from her and scrubbed her hair himself, knowing she wouldn't feel ok until she was clean. "And it's a damn good thing you did. Whatever it takes, Slugger." 

"Yeah, I know, but- Shane, they screamed. And the smell-" she shuddered. Shane pulled her close, holding on tight. 

"I killed five men in their sleep today," he whispered. He knew she was crying, and he wanted to make it better. He knew it wouldn't be. "With a knife. Took out another just as he woke up. Shot some more." 

"You ok?" 

He half-laughed. "Shit. Probably not." 

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'm gonna quit smoking." 

"Oh, that'll be the day," he muttered, and laughed for real when she shoved back and scowled at him. 

In their room, curtains drawn so the mid-day light was dimmed, she hooked her leg over his hip, her toes behind his knee, and he stroked her hair until she fell asleep. Shane stared up at the ceiling and wondered why he felt fine. 

Cause he did. He felt… tired. Angry, especially about the black-and-blue bruise on Ace's back where she'd gotten kicked- she'd told him the story and he'd been ready to storm back down to that slaughterhouse and have a go himself- and the one on her face. He was angry that they'd all had to go through that. Angry that the new world kept giving them problems. 

But he was fine. He'd killed men in their sleep, killed men who hadn't yet directly attacked them, despite the sure knowledge that eventually they would. And like after Otis, with Ace at his side, he knew he'd done the right thing. Hell, it was the only thing he could have done. 

He sighed and forced his eyes to close. Pig bastard he might be, he thought as Ace's hand slid half-under his shirt to lay against his tattoo, but he sure as hell wasn't a cop anymore. He'd sworn to serve and protect everyone. Stop those who were breaking the law. He wasn't supposed to be judge, jury, and executioner.

Except maybe, when it came to keeping those he loved safe, he always was.

He buttoned on the uniform and flashed himself a grin in the mirror. "King County Sheriff's Deputy Shane Walsh," he muttered. "Reporting for duty." 

He adjusted the hat and blew out a breath, nerves sinking in as he buckled on his duty belt. He'd trained. He was prepared. He was ready. 

He was fucking terrified, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. First day on the job was a big fucking deal. If he wasn't worried, wasn't afraid? He shouldn't be doing it. 

"Serve and protect, and watch your brother's back," he told his reflection solemnly. "Rick's counting on you. Lori's counting on you." 

He left the bathroom, shoulders squared and cocky smirk on his lips, and went out the door to meet Rick.


	72. Lie #72: "I'll Just Bat My Eyelashes At Her And She'll Go Away." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
references to past godawful traumatic events in the story

Considering you'd slaughtered a bunch of people in exchange for food, you all seemed remarkably normal and unbothered. It bothered you, briefly, that you weren't more bothered, until you realized as you finished Denise's anatomy mural how utterly ridiculous you were being. 

You had another project half-finished on the living room wall of your own house, a detailed recreation of the view from your apartment window back home, and when you woke painfully early and restless the fifth morning after your preemptive strike, you left Shane passed out with an arm over his eyes and crept downstairs intending to paint. 

You missed music, you thought as you stared at the wall in the faint light of fresh dawn. You missed that view and the person you were when you lived there. Well, for the most part. 

There were certainly things you didn't miss. 

You went for a bottle of water instead of your paint bag, and once again wished you had an airbrush kit. 

You found yourself outside, wandering the street in bare feet and Shane's shirt and jeans with frayed hems, soft from endless wear. You watched the sun rise, the weight of the knife in your pocket heavy as you thought about life before. 

You'd never carried a weapon regularly, even a pocket knife. Back then, you got enough of violence with Will and with Mal, and you'd always relied on words to get you out of things. Words, and- according to Shane- a mean right hook. Slugger, you thought with a roll of your eyes. 

You wanted a cigarette, but you'd been serious about quitting, even if Dickhead didn't believe you. Between Molly's lung cancer and lighting the kill floor up, you weren't sure you'd be able to smoke again. 

Maybe it bothered you after all, everything that had happened. 

Carol caught your eye, sitting on Tobin's porch with a cigarette in her hand and a look in her eyes you recognized. You stuck your hands in your pockets and wandered up the stairs onto her porch, fingers finding the rosary beads you'd brought from the slaughterhouse. You hadn't realized they were still in your pocket. 

Carol didn't say a word as you sat down beside her. She offered you the pack and you shook your head. 

"No thanks. I quit." 

She looked at you in surprise. "That'll be the day." 

"Why does everyone say that?" you complained, rolling your eyes. "I don't smoke that much anyway. Never have. Daryl's worse than me." 

"Yes, he is," Carol agreed. "Filthy habit." 

You eyed her as she went back to staring at the street, smoke trickling from her nose. The ashtray beside her was full and you sighed. "That's it. We're going to talk, damn it." 

"I'm fine." 

You scoffed. "Ok. You haven't been right since the prison fell." 

"I killed Karen and David," she said softly. 

"I know." Sunlight broke over the trees and the roofs beside you. "You were trying to protect everyone." 

"I killed Lizzy." 

You flinched. "Lizzy was a psychopath. She'd killed her sister and would have killed Judith." 

"I killed people in Terminus. On the way here. I killed Wolves, in the walls. And I let our people die, to get to the armory." 

You leaned back on the swing as the garage door to the pantry opened slowly. "Mmhhmm. Hard shit needed to be done. We did it. You, me, Shane, Rick, my brothers. We're good at the hard shit." 

Carol lit another cigarette. "Morgan says we don't have to kill people. He told me I don't like it." 

"I would assume you don't. If you did, I'd be worried." 

"I thought I might." You shot her a look and she shrugged. "I don’t. I don't think I can do it anymore." 

You nodded. "I don't blame you. No one else will either." 

She shook her head. "I've killed eighteen people. I think. I'm not sure." 

"I don't know how many I've killed. Why does it matter?" you asked with a jerk of your shoulders. It didn't matter. Killing them mattered, and why mattered, but the number? That didn't.

"It matters," Carol whispered. 

You sighed and pulled the rosary out of your pocket. You held it out to her and she looked confused, but took it. "It was in a walker's pocket. Got hooked on my foot as Paula drug it out. I grabbed it, thinking if it came to a pinch, I could use it as a weapon. Strangle someone with it, at the very least." 

"I used to be religious." Carol fingered the beads. "I haven't prayed since the first night in Gabriel's church. I was leaving. When Daryl and I saw the car that took Beth. I was going to leave the group again. I'm dangerous. Rick was right to banish me." 

You shook your head, covering her hand on the rosary. "No, he wasn't. You are dangerous. To those that are a danger to us. That's not hardness, Carol. It's not a lack of empathy or compassion. It's too much. Not to get all bar stool psychology on you, but it's not the killing that I think bothers you so much. It's the idea that you could lose more of us. You've lost a lot, Carol. I can't imagine, not really, but I can empathize." You squeezed her hand and she refused to meet your eyes. "You're afraid to lose everything. You haven't, and you won't. You haven't lost yourself. Not really. You might not be the same, but you're still you." 

You left her staring, silent and immobile, at the cigarette in one hand and Jesus on the cross in the other.

Morgan had built a whole ass prison cell in the basement beside the armory. He did it in like four days, and while that was almost as impressive as his aikido abilities- which you watched him practice as you strolled back toward home- you knew Shane and Rick were both annoyed by it. 

"'It'll give you choices next time,'" Shane had muttered, shaking his head. "Damn fool needs to realize we wouldn't have had any choice with that shit even if there'd been a cell. This ain't the world before. We don't have prisons." 

Both of you had winced at that, and changed the subject. 

Abraham broke up with Rosita and started shacking up with Sasha. You hadn't seen that one coming, to be honest, but they seemed happy. Rosita started shacking up with Spencer in what you could only imagine was retaliation. She seemed far, far less happy. Denise missed Tara, and so did you. Carol had moved in with Tobin. 

Merle and Abraham bickered; Merle and Michonne bickered; Rick and Michonne moved straight to 'old married couple' status. Daryl tinkered with his bike, and both of you had scoffed when he'd found the carved and painted toy soldier in it. 

"Should have killed 'em," Daryl muttered. 

You kissed his cheek and ignored him. 

You wanted a cigarette bad. Even worse when he lit up. "I hate you," you informed him. 

"Got more," he grunted, tinkering. 

"No. I quit." You turned and watched as Rosita and Denise wandered up, Denise looking nervous as all hell and Rosita looking pissed off. 

"Shit, lil sister, how many days it been? Just have one. Cold turkey's a bitch. Heard ya throwin' up this morning." Merle slammed the door behind him and half-jogged down the porch steps. 

You grimaced. "I did not. I almost threw up. And I'm pretty sure it was because of whatever you fed us for dinner last night, not the cigarettes." 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Well, what's this? Ladies! Come to ask ol' Merle out finally?" 

Rosita rolled her eyes and Denise looked vaguely like she'd rather die than be there. You smacked your brother on the back of the head. 

"Shut up, Merle. What's up, guys?" 

"Denise has a question," Rosita said dryly. "Go on." 

With the three of you staring at her, Tara's girlfriend looked terrified. You took pity on her and took the map she held, turning it so you could see the location she'd circled. 

"When I left DC, I just drove around. I saw it about the time I realized I had no idea where I was going. Edison's Apothecary and Boutique. It's just this little gift shop in a strip mall, but if it's really an apothecary, they had drugs," she babbled. 

"How do ya know they still got 'em?" Daryl asked, brow furrowed. 

"It isn't far. I just want to check. And you and Rosita and Ace aren't scavenging or pulling shifts, so-" Denise trailed off, looking anxious. 

Merle winked at her. "What about me, sugar tits? Can I come too?" 

"Merle, goddamn it," you chided absently, studying the map she'd marked it on. "There's more shit around here. I don't recognize this area, so maybe it hasn't been picked over." 

"Ya mean you ain't got it done in sharpie and carefully marked with post-its on that roll of paper in the corner of the kitchen?" Merle said dryly. 

Daryl smacked him this time, and glanced over your shoulder. "Looks worth it, I guess. Pig gonna let you out, sis?" 

"Shane-" you emphasized his name pointedly while Rosita smothered a laugh, "- is my boyfriend, not my jailer. He's on the wall; I'll let him know. I'm in." 

"Yeah, same," Daryl agreed. 

Merle hooked his arm over your shoulder. "I'm goin' too. Ain't gonna let you shits have all the fun. Rosita, darlin', you in?"

Denise hesitated when Rosita shrugged. "I wanted to go. I want to check." 

Both of your brothers looked at her and you sighed. "How much time have you spent out there?" you asked before either of them could be dicks about it. 

"None," she admitted reluctantly. 

"Aww, shit, honey, just let us-" 

"I can id the meds. I can use a machete now. And shouldn't I get some experience?" Denise demanded. "I'm ready. I'll go alone if I have to." 

"You'll die alone," Daryl muttered. 

"And I'm asking you to make sure that I don’t!" 

You started laughing. "There's the spirit! Tell 'em, girl. Shit. I'm ashamed of all three of you. Four of us going, she'll be fine, damn it. And she's right; she needs the experience. Come on. Get our shit and let's go." 

Shane had eyed you like he wanted to object, but with your brothers bickering and Rosita looking like the world's most pissed off babysitter, he'd just sighed, kissed you, and said "be back for dinner, you're still cooking tonight." 

You'd laughed and hopped into the bed of the pickup with Merle, leaving Daryl, Rosita, and Denise to take the bench seat in the cab. You waved as Daryl ground gears and Merle yelled about when the fuck he'd forgotten how to drive a stick, cause Merle had for sure done taught him, and you closed your eyes and enjoyed the sun on your face and the sound of your brothers being jackasses. 

Daryl banged on the back window and yelled for Merle to shut the fuck up, and you started playing absently with sketching this moment. Old truck, Daryl's scowling face in profile in the window, his wrist loose over the wheel as he picked at this thumbnail. Denise's uncomfortably hunched shoulders. Rosita with her hand out the window, face set and eyes sad in the side mirror. Damn, that woman was hurting, you thought, biting your lip. Merle with his rifle propped on his shoulder, shit-eating grin on his lips and trouble in his eyes. 

You'd do it in bright, almost painful Van Gogh colors and swirls, you decided as the trees and abandoned buildings flowed past. 

"Ya got that look in ya eyes, sis," Merle said quietly. "Whatcha dreamin' up? Gonna run out of paint real fast, way ya goin'." 

You scoffed. "Shane will find me more. Or I will. There's a ton of wall space in Alexandria; I could probably paint every day for the rest of my life and still have room." 

"Ain't that the damn truth. Need to convert one of them empty houses on the edge of town into a bar. Let ya start havin' adults-only nights again." 

You laughed and shoved hair from your eyes. "Yeah, I think we have other concerns, don't you? Like growing our own food. Or finding something else to trade." 

Merle grunted. "Yeah, there's that. And them Saviors. Agree with ya damn pig and his wife. We ain't seen the last of them yet." 

Your good mood slipped away and you grimaced. "You're probably right. Damn it." 

The truck slowed and you both turned to look. Merle chuckled and slung the rifle over his shoulder as Daryl pulled to a stop, and you rose and leaned your elbows on the hood of the cab. "Well, shit," you said dryly. 

"Bout sums it up, yeah," Merle agreed. 

Fallen limbs blocked the train tracks, and you chewed on your thumbnail as Daryl and Rosita opened the doors. "Guess we're walking," you commented to your brother. 

He grunted. "Seems like. Stay here, with her." 

You sighed but stayed in place as he, Merle, and Rosita went for a closer look. You could hear the snarls, so somewhere in that was a walker. Rosita pulled a branch aside and there one was. You shifted impatiently as the three of them glanced at each other. 

"Tree rotted out. Wasn't people," Rosita said. One slash with her machete and she leaned in, coming up with a bag and a smirk at Merle. 

"What'd you find?" you yelled when Daryl whistled that it was clear. 

She held the bag up and wiggled it. Denise stepped out of the truck and eyed her and you, and you slung an arm around Denise as Rosita answered you. "Bottles of booze. Any takers?" 

"Aw, shit," you laughed. "That's a find!" 

"Hell yeah. Not bringing these to the pantry," she agreed as Daryl and Merle grabbed the bags out of the bed of the truck. 

"I'm good," Denise muttered. "They were kind of my parents' thing, which is why they aren't mine." 

You and Merle exchanged a look behind her back. "Yeah, I get that," you agreed. "Come on, let's walk." 

"Hold up," Denise said. "Looks like a straight shot if we follow the tracks." 

Daryl scoffed immediately. "No. No tracks. We'll take the road." 

"That's twice as far," Rosita observed, sounding confused. 

"Go whichever way ya like," Merle drawled. "We don't mix well with tracks, damn it." 

You rolled your eyes, but- yeah, no. You actually agreed with them. Rosita looked annoyed when you shrugged and fell in with your brothers. "Terminus was a bit of a traumatic event, apparently." 

"No shit, but that doesn't mean adding to the trip- and the danger- for-" she cut off when you shrugged again, walking backward now as Daryl and Merle stalked down the road. "Damn Dixons!" she yelled. 

"Sorry! Meet you there, I guess!" you yelled back. 

"Come on, sis!" 

"Merleeeeeeeeeee!" you wailed, drawing his name out in a pitiful cry. 

He glared from across the room. "What?" 

"Homework sucks." 

Daryl snorted. "No shit." 

"Watch ya fuckin' mouth," Merle muttered. "Kids don't need to be cussin' when CPS comes by later." 

You rolled your eyes and tossed your pencil down dramatically. "Like we don't all know I'll just bat my eyelashes at her and she'll go away," you muttered. "Works every time. 'Sides, we know how to behave. It's just us here, we can say whatever the hell we want." 

Merle scoffed, not looking up from his own homework. "Don't get fuckin' cocky, sis. We fuck up, she'll split us up." 

That sobered you, and you and Daryl looked at each other. "Yeah," you said softly. "Sorry." 

Merle grunted, and silence descended over your room again. You picked up your cast off pencil and frowned at the math worksheet again. "Merleeeeeeee!" 

"What?!?" 

"Homework sucks!" 

Denise followed you. Rosita took the tracks. The walk was very tense for awhile. You glanced at the faces around you and sighed. 

"Remember that time Will sent us to the store, but he forgot that money was a thing we'd need, and we tried to lift that one guy's wallet?" you asked into the silence. 

Denise made a choking noise, but Daryl's lips twitched up in a smile. "Shit, sis. How many lifetimes ago was that?" 

"Roughly a hundred," you agreed, bumping his shoulder with yours. "I think we were ten." 

Merle snorted. "By ten ya shoulda been able to lift a wallet. The fuck happened? And where was I?" 

"Juvie," the two of you said in unison, deadpan tones identical. 

Denise shook her head, looking sad. "You guys are definitely twins," she said softly. Wistfully. "I miss my twin." 

"You-" you cut the question off before you asked it, knowing damn well what loss sounded like, and how much questions could hurt. 

She smiled sadly. "Dennis. Our parents weren't exactly original. I loved him. He's gone." 

You nodded, and silence fell again. Daryl's fingers brushed your hand and you squeezed lightly. You couldn't image losing him. You couldn't imagine losing either of them, you thought as you looked at Merle. He was walking backward, rifle at the ready, barrel balanced on his forearm. 

Yeah, you loved these assholes. 

"Hey, little brother," Merle called. 

You were stopped for a breather and a piss- Merle's words- and he'd wandered up the street a bit to take care of that second one. He had a note in his voice that had you wondering what the hell he'd found, and you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him as he jogged back toward the three of you. 

"Gimme that damn map, sis," he said, gesturing toward you. You fished it out of your pocket and unfolded it, and he squinted over your shoulder. "Yeah, that's what I thought. See this?" 

He stabbed a finger at it and you tilted your head, then looked up at the street sign on the intersection. "Just up that-a-way, down here, and around that corner- looks like maybe three miles?- there's that other shoppin' mall," he continued. "We should split up. Baby sis can take the good doctor on to Rosita, hit the apothecary. Darylina and I can take this 'un. Meet back at the truck." 

"Shit," you muttered. "No. I mean, yeah, you're not wrong, but I'm going with you, asshole." 

Merle looked like he wanted to object, but Daryl started to laugh. "The fuck's funny, little brother?" Merle demanded. 

Daryl nodded toward the stores marked on the map. "Craft store," he said easily. "Yeah, Ace is goin'. Aight. Three hours, or we leave ya asses, aight? And get more'n just paint." 

You looked down your nose at him even as Denise frowned and Merle cracked up. "I look after the good of the group first, thank you very much. There's more in stores like that than just my art supplies. There's stuff for building projects, clean clothes, and-" 

"Yeah, yeah, it's a damn treasure trove of essential shit," Daryl interrupted, taking the map from your hands and shoving it into his back pocket. "Don't be late. Watch ya back." 

"Bite me, Darrie," you said pleasantly. 

Daryl rolled his eyes, Merle clapped him on the back, you waved to Denise, and the four of you parted ways. 

Yeah, you were getting some charcoal, you decided, smile on your lips. And some oil paints. Maybe an airbrush, if you could talk Merle into agreeing that it was a good use of solar power. 

This was shaping up to be a damn good day.


	73. Lie #73: "No. No, You Didn't." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
minor character death (canon)

Shane was on the wall when the pickup came roaring back. He'd waved Eugene and Abraham out that morning, Eugene talking a bunch of scientific nonsense and Abraham looking thoroughly put-upon as they went, as well as a handful of other teams out scavenging. It'd been quiet since Ace and her idiot brothers left, and Shane was looking forward to having Judith for the night and the inevitable bickering over dinner. 

When the fuck had he gone from rarely giving out keys to living with three other adults and his daughter? Plus, Rick, Carl, and Michonne would probably end up in their house. There'd been some trash talk the day before between the kid and Merle, something about poker and the tattered deck of cards Carl had found. 

Shit, he couldn't wait. Merle's latest bath of moonshine wasn't- ok, no, it was still awful, but it was slightly more drinkable than before. Not according to Ace, though.

He was smiling at the thought when he heard the engine, coming up fast, and he whipped the rifle to his shoulder. The pickup was flying, Daryl at the wheel, with Rosita and Abraham in the bed bent over something. 

"Open the damn gate!" he yelled down, and Francine moved quickly. 

Daryl didn't even slow down. 

Shane was on his way down the ladder already. "Hey, Spencer- take the wall," he snapped at Deanna's son as he jogged up the road after the truck, shoving his rifle into Spencer's hands. "Someone get Rick!" 

Daryl had left with five people. Abraham and Eugene had left separately. And he hadn't seen Ace in that truck. 

Something was wrong.

He walked wordlessly into the kitchen and went straight for the booze cabinet. This wasn't even a job for Merle's goddamn moonshine, he thought viciously. He snatched the Johnnie Black from the shelf, uncapped it, and took a long pull straight from the bottle before he turned around and glared at Daryl and Rick. 

"So let me get this straight," he said slowly, rubbing one hand over the back of his head. "That asshole Dwight that you chose not kill showed up out of nowhere with a bunch of his asshole buddies, killed Denise, and threatened to kill Eugene. Eugene got shot, Abraham had been hiding in the trees, and you and Rosita and Abraham hauled Eugene back here." 

"Yeah," Daryl snapped, eyes sparking. 

"Ok," Shane muttered. He took another swig and thunked the bottle down on the counter, then leaned against the bar. Daryl's glare could have started the fireplace, and he was chewing on his thumbnail absently. 

Shane almost told him to stop. 

Instead, he smiled and spoke through gritted teeth. "And just where. The fuck. Are your siblings?" 

"I don't fuckin' know!" Daryl yelled, throwing his hand out in a rough gesture as he started to pace. 

Rick shifted, hooking his thumbs on his belt, and looked like he was about to say something useful, like calm down or take a breath. Shane and Daryl both ignored him. 

Daryl whipped around and leveled a finger at Shane. "They went off on their own, to hit some stores in another fuckin' bullshit strip. Fuckin' craft store in there, so of course ya fuckin' girlfriend wanted to go. Said they'd meet us at the damn truck, but we got there an' Eugene was shot. Waited a bit, but we had to go, ain't we?" 

"No," Shane snarled. "No, you didn't." He grabbed his gun from his side and popped the magazine grimly, checking it before slamming it back into place. "Where were you going to meet?" 

"Fuck's I s'posed to do, let Eugene bleed to death?" 

Shane scoffed and didn't respond to that. "He was grazed. He's fine." 

"Yeah, 'cause Rosita done patched him up-" 

Shane rounded the bar and started for the door, and Rick stepped in his path and held up a hand. "Easy, brother," Rick said quietly. "Just hold on a minute." 

"Oh, don't give me that shit, Rick. I'm going to get them." 

"You can't," Rick said calmly. 

Shane's middle finger felt like an appropriate response to that, so he let it do the talking for him. Rick sighed, that stubborn-bastard look in his eyes. "Brother, listen to me. Listen- you can't. You can't go out there. No one can. You hear me, man?" 

Shane scoffed and went to move around him, but Rick stayed in his path. "Damn it, Rick, you lookin' to get decked?" 

"Take a swing if you want to," Rick said with a shrug. "Won't be the first time, probably won't be the last. There's more of the Saviors out there. We can't send anyone outside those walls. Ace and Merle will get to where they were supposed to meet, see the truck is gone, and come home. They'll be back in a few hours, and you know it. I need you here. We need to make a plan, Shane. I need both of you," he added, including Daryl in the stubborn-bastard glare. 

Shane's hand shook as he clenched it into a fist, wondering in despair how the hell Rick Grimes always pulled this off. "A couple hours. If she's not back, I'm going out there," he informed Rick. 

Rick shrugged. "We'll talk about it later. Right now, Daryl needs to tell us everything. Get Rosita and Abraham in here too." 

Shane squinted in the sunlight as he and Rick left the building. "You ready for this shit, brother?" 

"Course I am," Rick said. He adjusted the Velcro on his vest, then started buttoning up his uniform shirt. "Sheriff seems confident. Plus, the Feds are involved. They usually know what they're doing." 

Shane scoffed and popped the trunk, grabbing his shotgun and the box of ammo. He nodded as Leon and Lambert yelled "good luck", and Rick waved. "Putting a lot of faith in their intel." 

"Gotta trust someone's, right?" Rick said with a shrug. He slapped Shane on the shoulder and flashed him a smile. "Come on, we got this. Let's go so we can get home. Lori's craving tacos again." 

"Damn kid's got a spicy palette, brother," Shane said with a laugh. He slammed the trunk and started for the passenger seat, figuring if Rick was driving Shane wouldn't have to worry about him doing anything stupid like bailing and going in on foot. "Watch your damn back, you hear?" 

"Yeah, yeah. You're the one I'm worried about. Don't do anything dumb, 22." 

Shane rolled his eyes and didn't say anything about pots and kettles. 

Shane pulled the rifle from his shoulder and tossed it into the truck. His pack followed it, and he spun the keys as he slid into the driver's seat. 

Abraham, Rosita, and Daryl had told them what they knew. After Ace and Merle split off, Daryl, Rosita, and Denise had hit the apothecary. The place had been untouched, and they'd scored big on drugs for the pharmacy. Then they'd taken the train tracks back, heading to the truck to meet up, and all hell had broken loose. Dwight, that fucking asshole who Ace and Daryl had tried to help when everything went to shit with the herd, had shot Denise with a bolt from Daryl's own crossbow. He and a group of men had somehow gotten their hands on Eugene- but not Abraham; there was something about a fistfight and a angry stalk out of a machine shop that Shane hadn't paid much attention to- and Dwight had told them they'd kill Eugene first, the Rosita, then Daryl if they didn't let him and his crew into Alexandria. Seemed Dwight had gone back to the Saviors after all, and there were more of them than Jesus and the Hilltop had thought. 

And they were pissed. They were coming for Alexandria. 

Eugene had created a distraction by telling them Abraham was hiding in the wings, then bit down on Dwight's dick and hung on like a rabid dog. That gave the other three enough of a chance to grab their guns and take some of the bastards out, and Dwight had called a retreat when he finally got free of Eugene. But Eugene had been winged in the chaos, and they hadn't been able to wait at the truck for Ace and Merle. 

Shane was going to find them. Now. 

"Shane! Damn it, brother, you can't leave!" 

Shane scoffed and put the key in the ignition, pulling the door closed and not bothering to respond. Rick's hand grabbed it right before it slammed and Shane glared at him. "Let go, man." 

"I can't do that," Rick said steadily. "You're not thinking clearly." 

"Oh, I'm thinking perfectly clearly. It's been three damn days, Rick. Ain't been sign of a Savior yet, but you know what else there hasn't been sign of? Slugger and her idiot brother!" 

Rick nodded, but he had that stubborn-bastard sincerity in his eyes and Shane was in no goddamn mood. "I know," Rick said. "But-" 

"No fucking buts, Rick!" 

"We need to stay put. They're coming," Rick hissed. 

Shane stared at him. "I don't care." 

"Brother-" 

Shane slid from the seat, up in Rick's face. "What the hell do you want me to do, man? Sit around on my ass on the wall all goddamn day? It's like when she got taken by that goddamn cockroach back at the prison! You wanna lose your fuckin' mind for awhile; leave me- and her!- high and dry? Go ahead! I'm going to find my girl." 

"You can't do that," Rick repeated, voice soft but full of steel. 

"Fucking watch me," Shane snarled. "Or better yet, get in the damn truck and help. Gonna have to knock me out if you want me to stay here." 

"I'm not going to do that. Brother, you cannot leave," Rick repeated, setting a hand on Shane's shoulder. 

Shane punched him in the face. He didn't think about it, he just did it. 

Rick's head snapped to the side and Shane hauled back to take another swing as someone shouted from the gate. Rick sighed, ducked that, and-

His head throbbed. "Shit. I go on a bender with Merle's shit last night, Slugger?" 

His eyes snapped open as memory slammed back into him. Cinder block walls and barred windows greeted him, and Shane started laughing, low and hysterical and not at all amused. 

"What's so funny?" Rick asked, tone deceptively mild. 

Shane sat up- slowly, his head fucking ached, and he prodded at it gently. "What'd you hit me with?" 

Rick stood with his hands through the bars on the door, watching him with a wary look in his eyes. "Python." 

"Figured," he muttered. "Gonna keep me in here?" 

"Gonna try to leave if I let you out?" 

Shane shoved to his feet and closed his eyes as the world swayed. "What the fuck do you think?" 

"I think that's the first sleep you've gotten in days, and you should lay back down and get some more," Rick said. "I'll be back in a few hours." 

Shane flipped him off, keeping his eyes closed until he heard Rick sigh and walk away. 

"Shit, Slugger. That's a damn shiner," Shane said. He kept his voice calm somehow, but he'd taken one look at her and gotten pissed. Who the hell had thought taking a swing at her was something they could get away with? Even down the bar he'd been able to see it, and he knew she had about six pounds of makeup caked over her eye right now. 

She rolled that eye and made a face. "Settle down, Deputy. I've been through this about sixteen times tonight. It's nothing." 

"Sure as shit doesn’t look like nothing," Shane said easily, not relaxing in the slightest. "What the hell?" 

She sighed, grabbed one of the Thor mugs, and automatically filled it from the tap. "I did something dumb." 

"Unless you're about to tell me you stopped a crime and got decked, I'm going to say it's not you who did something dumb. It's whoever hit you." Shane ignored the mug when she dropped it in front of him in favor of catching her hand and holding her in place. He leaned across the bar and ran a fingertip lightly over her cheekbone, checking for swelling. 

She sighed again, dramatically. "I've already checked; nothing's broken. I'm fine. I fell asleep texting you last night and dropped my phone on my face. Gravity plus cell phone apparently equals a black eye for Ace." 

He stared at her for a full ten seconds before bursting into laughter. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, asshole," she muttered, but she grinned and shrugged. "What can I say? I have many talents." 

Shane leaned his forehead against the cement wall and contemplated banging his head on it repeatedly. He was also considering just what the fuck he was going to do when Rick finally came back, because he'd been here all night and he was thinking about punching his best friend in the face a few more times. It'd be therapeutic, he decided. For both of them, since Rick needed 'how not to be an asshole' therapy. 

Somewhere in the back of his rage filled mind, Shane agreed with Rick. They shouldn't be leaving. They needed to wait and prepare and gather more information, because a storm was coming. That much was certain. 

And everyone else should do just that. But he needed to be out there looking for his Slugger. She was in trouble; he could feel it. He knew it, down deep in his gut, like he had when Malcolm fucking Hall had her. She was in trouble; she needed him; and he- 

He was stuck in this fucking cell. 

"Hey, Walsh. We're leaving. Put ya fuckin' shoes on." 

Shane looked over his shoulder and smiled slowly. Daryl had the cell keys, a pissed-off expression, his crossbow over his shoulder, and a rifle in his hand. "Damn straight we are," he snarled. 

Apparently the looks on their faces were enough to keep Rosita and Abraham from trying very hard to stop them. Or maybe it was that Rosita was just as pissed about Denise's death as Daryl was, Shane supposed, but either way, they roared out on Daryl's bike with no more objection than Abraham's "you got details on what 'out' means?" 

"Yeah, we're going up yours. Close the fucking gate," Shane had snapped from the pillion seat on the bike. Shane didn't give a shit what any of them thought; Daryl was right. Bike was maneuverable, and they were going to have to ditch it and go on foot to track anyway. 

"We split up past the damn tree. Last time I set foot on a goddamn train track for any reason," Daryl snarled. "Shouldn't'a taken 'em back. Denise might still fuckin' be alive if I hadn't." 

"And Eugene and Abraham would be dead," Shane said with a shrug. "Shit luck either way, Dixon. Where the fuck were your siblings going?" 

"That way." Dixon jerked his head, but he turned the bike down the tracks. Shane lifted a curious eyebrow and ignored the bumpy ride. 

"So where are we going?" he asked finally. 

"To where it all started. Pick up the damn trail there, run down the fuckin' Saviors. They ran off same direction Ace and Merle were goin'." 

Shane felt like that wasn't the best logic in the world, but he was too damn worried about them to argue. Daryl hopped off, let the bike fall on its side, and grabbed some nearby shrubbery. "Help me, pig." 

"We not over that bullshit yet?" Shane grumbled, but he helped cover the bike. "Alright, let's go." 

Daryl grunted and started into the trees, pulling a bottle from his pocket and unscrewing the cap. He let the cap fall to the ground and knocked back the entire thing in one go, then tossed the bottle away from him. He shoved a branch out of the way and Shane eyed him. The walked in silence for awhile, Daryl studying the ground from time to time. 

When he pulled the third bottle from his pocket, Shane sighed. "That isn't a good idea, man."

Dixon grunted and tossed the empty bottle aside. "Why, ya want one?" 

"Remember the last time you got smashed while your sister was missing?" Shane asked pointedly. "It didn't end well for either of us." 

"Don't mind getting fuckin' bloody with ya, Walsh," Daryl muttered. 

Shane scrubbed a hand over his hair and started to try again, but a twig snapped behind him. Dixon whipped the crossbow up and fired as Shane turned, and he winced when the bolt slammed into a tree beside Rosita's head. She looked from it to the two of them, her eyes furious, and yanked it free. 

"Hey! Watch it!" she snapped. Behind her, Glenn and Michonne had matching warily earnest expressions, and Shane could feel his lip curling already. Clearly, they were sent to drag him and Daryl back. 

Not without his Slugger, damn it. And her idiot brother.


	74. Lie #74: "Also, She's Not My Girlfriend." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
references to past drug and alcohol abuse  
implied references to past domestic violence/abuse

"You shouldn't have come!" Daryl snapped, yanking his bolt from Rosita's hand and stalking further into the trees. 

Shane agreed with that, but with Daryl half-lit and acting the asshole, he guessed it was up to him to maybe not be one as well. He shrugged an apology at the others as he followed him. They were not mollified by it at all, apparently. 

"You two shouldn't have left!" Michonne yelled. 

Daryl whipped back around, glaring at everyone, including Shane. "When we split from Sasha and Abraham? He was out there in the woods, in that burned-out forest with them girls. Put a gun to my head- to my sister's head! Tied us up! I even tried to help him," he scoffed, shoulders jerking. 

"So you think it's your fault?" Glenn asked. 

Daryl turned back around, getting up in Glenn's face with his eyes deadly serious. "Yeah, I know it is." 

"Come on, Dixon, keep it together, man," Shane muttered. "Isn't Glenn's fault." 

Daryl sneered. "I'm gonna do what I shoulda done before." 

"What, for her? She's gone, man," Glenn pleaded. 

And yeah, maybe Denise was. Maybe it was too late to do anything about that, but Ace- Ace was out here, and Shane was wondering why they were tracking Saviors when they should have been tracking Ace and Merle. 

"You're doing this for you. Both of you are," Glenn continued. 

"Man, I don't give a shit," Daryl snapped as Shane laughed harshly. 

"I'm doing it for Slugger and that damn lump," he told the others when they looked at him. "You forget, my girl's out here somewhere. So you can take your we-gotta-prepare-together, kumbaya bullshit and head right on back home. Rick'll be pissed you came after us in the first place." 

Michonne looked ready to argue some more, but neither Shane nor Daryl were willing to give them the shot. 

Daryl grabbed another mini bottle from his pocket and Shane was over it. He slapped it from Dixon's hand, sending it flying before the man could knock it back, and Daryl was up in his face and yelling immediately. 

"Fuck's that for, asshole?" 

Shane didn't back down. He shrugged. "You're drunk enough, damn it. We need to find your fucking family, and you can't do that if you're blitzed. Something happened, and I need you functioning. If I have to watch your drunk ass too, we all go down." 

Daryl snorted. "Who says I'm drunk?" 

Shane didn't bother to dignify that one with a response, and Daryl swung away. "Fine. I got more," Dixon muttered. 

He sighed and slapped the next one from his hand too. 

"Ya lookin' for a fight?" 

"Yeah," Shane said honestly, rage settling in. "Not with you, mind, but if you don't get your head out of your ass and help me find your fucking sister, you'll be at the top of the list." 

Daryl's face twisted into several different emotions before he got up in Shane's space again and hissed the words from inches away. "They's dead. Don't ya get that? My sister, my brother- they're dead! Dwight and his fuckin' Savior assholes killed 'em!" 

"I don't believe that," Shane said calmly. He was holding onto his temper by a thread, and it was fraying. Daryl wasn't saying anything Shane himself hadn't thought, over and over again since that pickup came flying up the road with no Ace or Merle in it, but he couldn’t believe it. He couldn't believe it, and he certainly couldn't hear Daryl say it. 

Ace had been dead before, and Shane had come too damn close to biting a bullet because of it. 

"The fuck not?" Daryl screamed. "They ain't come back home, have they? And ya think they wouldn't've, if they could? They're fuckin' gone, man!" 

Shane grabbed Daryl's shoulder when he would have turned to pace. Dixon looked at his hand and then at him, and Shane braced himself for Ace's brother to start swinging. "I made a promise," he told Daryl softly. "I won’t believe it, not until I see- not until I see the walker. That's why." 

Daryl clocked him. 

Shane grunted, taking it on the jaw and staggering back half a step. Fucking Dixons, he thought as he brought the butt of the rifle up into Daryl gut. Packed a fucking punch, didn't they? 

Daryl huffed out air, but he came back swinging. In a repeat of a fight with him what felt like ten lifetimes ago, outside Atlanta, Shane hit him from the side and got him in choke hold, bringing him down to the ground. 

"Listen to me, damn it. I am not doing this, ok? We are not doing this. We're going to track these assholes down, and we're going to find your siblings. They are not dead. Not until we see a goddamn body. We've made that mistake once or twice already, right? You really want to go down that road again?" 

Daryl went still after struggling a bit, and Shane relaxed his hold. "It's my fault," Daryl said softly, and fuck. 

Shane got that. He let Ace's brother go, and Daryl sat forward, head in his hands. Shane dropped next to him and sighed, scrubbing a hand over his hair and looking around the trees. "Man, we're too fucking similar, you know that? I don't know if we're becoming more alike from living together or what, cause I never would have said that when I first met you." 

Daryl snorted and flipped him off. Shane cracked a grin. 

"I blame myself for everything. Shit, if I work hard enough at it, I can figure out how the whole dead-rising bit is my fault," he muttered. "Thing is, though, it's not true. You made a choice, in the woods. Ace agreed with you, or she'd have just killed them anyway, and we both know it." 

That got an amused snort. "Ya ain't wrong there. My sister's tough shit when she remembers she is." 

"Damn straight," Shane agreed. "You made a choice. So did they. Their choice isn't on you." 

"Still should have kill 'em." 

"Well, yeah," he said with a shrug. "But that's not the call you made. Now get the fuck up, empty your pockets, and help me find your siblings." 

Daryl scowled, but he took the hand Shane held down to him. "Better stop usin' that fuckin' illegal hold." 

"File a complaint." 

Shane sighed loudly when his phone rang. He was nearly to Atlanta, damn it, and if that was the sheriff, well honestly, he could kiss Shane's ass. He'd pulled doubles all week, he hadn't seen Ace in weeks, that idiot she couldn't quit had fucked up again, and Shane needed the night out they'd planned as badly as she did. 

He considered just letting it go to voicemail, but shit. Emergencies were a thing. 

He grabbed it off the passenger seat with another sigh and turned the radio down. Whoever was on the other end would just have to deal with the road noise from doing seventy-eight in his Jeep with the top down, though, cause there was nothing he could do about it now. "Walsh," he answered, seconds before it went to voicemail anyway. 

"Hey, Walsh. Shit, where are you, in a hurricane?" 

He rolled his eyes and blew around someone who didn't believe in going the speed limit. "Casey. I'm on the highway with the top down. What's up, man?" 

"You on your way to Atlanta?" 

Shane's eyes narrowed at Casey's tone. "Maybe. Why you asking?" 

"Well, I'm sitting here in my cruiser, eating lunch and talking to my wife, and I see something real interesting," Casey said casually. "There's a woman walking down the street. Not that unusual, you might think, but this woman has day-glo orange hair. Now, we both know someone who likes to get into trouble and has a habit of doing some truly unnatural things to her hair, so I looked a little closer." 

Shane groaned when Casey paused. "How much trouble is she in?" he asked wearily. 

"None, yet. All she was doing was walking down the street, but she was carrying a rather large, paint-covered duffle bag, and had a bandanna in her back pocket. You and I both know I'm duty-bound to go check that out." 

Shane had a feeling something was coming, or Casey wouldn't have called him first. He eyed the speedometer and drove a little faster when Casey continued. 

"The thing is, though, I'm on my lunch break. And that woman we know- cause this may not be her, right? Anyway, she's been picked up three times in the past three months. Once just last week." 

Shane winced. "Fucking hell. She going to jail? This you giving me a heads up?"

"Well. I like her, Walsh. She doesn't deserve the inside of a cell, not like her piece of shit brother she's always picking up. You know he got himself arrested and she drove over after work one night a few weeks ago? She looked exhausted, and she had some bruises on her. Said she messed up in the bar, ran into a wall. Anyway, she's not bad news. We all like her. Shit, she made me a painting for the baby's nursery when she found out my wife was pregnant. It's hanging over my daughter's crib. So, here's the deal- I'm on my lunch break. I've got another twenty minutes. Then I'm going to go get some gas. Then I'll have to check down that street and see if I spot anything illegal going on." 

Shane glanced at the time and squinted at the next exit sign. "Shit," he muttered. He speed up more. 

"I'm also going to pretend I didn't hear that," Casey said dryly. "You have a nice day now, and I hope to not see you on Washington." 

"Thanks, Casey. Kiss your wife and your girl for me. I owe you," Shane told him, grateful. Casey kept Slugger out of trouble more than she even knew, but he was sticking his neck out this time. Shane owed the man a lot. 

"Tell your girlfriend to set me up next time I come in the Lullaby, and to stop painting buildings that don't belong to her." 

Shane laughed. "She won't listen to the last bit, but the first is a guarantee. Also, she's not my girlfriend. Watch your back." 

"Sure she's not. Later, Walsh." 

Shane inched the speedometer closer to eighty-five, said a quick prayer that he didn't get pulled, and dialed Ace's number.

He managed to keep her from being arrested- as expected, she didn't answer her fucking phone- by a three minute margin. As in, he tossed her gear in her trunk and slammed it closed, and shoved her into her car two seconds before he saw the cruiser pull slowly around the corner. 

Casey eyed him warily, but Shane just made innocent eyes and waved. They were lucky Ace never parked where she painted, or he'd have had enough probable cause to check them out closer- and a moral as well as official obligation to do so. As it was, he rolled on by without stopping and Shane shoved a hand through his hair, breathed a sigh of relief, and yelled at Ace about being more careful when they were back at her apartment. 

She grabbed a shower while he called in their usual pizza order, then he wandered around admiring her latest creations. She'd changed the chalkboard wall. Hands reached up toward a full moon, stars and streaks of chalk making a vivid night sky. The strokes were relaxed, loose- a sketch, he knew, with guidelines and beginning shapes still half-visible. She'd been playing, probably watching some dumb procedural nonsense while she did it. 

He paid for the pizza when it arrived because she was still fucking around in the bathroom, and when her phone rang he grabbed it and knocked on the door. "Hey. You decent? Phone's ringing," he told her around a mouthful of pizza. 

She opened the door, mascara wand in hand and towel wrapped around her like a dress. Shane grinned, about to make a comment, but she beat him to it. 

"Don't say it," she said dryly. "Who is it? Where's my slice?" 

"I don't know, it's your phone," he said with a shrug, handing it to her and leaning comfortably in the open doorway. "Get dressed and you can have some." 

"Jerk. Bring me a slice; I'm not done in here. Hello?" The last was said into the phone after she'd frowned at it, and her eyes closed and shoulders drooped. 

Shane had started to go back to the kitchen, but the look on her face had him pausing. 

"Shut up. No. Call your brother," she snapped. "I'm busy, damn it." 

She reached out and took the pizza from his hand, taking a bite before handing it back. She rolled her eyes and mouthed 'Merle' at his questioning look, and Shane leaned back into the doorway, interested. He still hadn't met her brothers. 

"I said no. It's your own damn fault. No, I don't have bail money for you, actually. I used it all last time." She let out the kind of groan Shane had never heard her make, a sound of pure exasperation that he was pretty sure only siblings could get out of each other, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at it. He had a feeling he'd just gotten a glimpse of her as a teenager. 

"Fine! No, I'm still not coming to get you. I'll call Daryl. No, asshole. Because I have plans. Well, if I can't get a hold of him, you'll just have to cool your jets, won't you? Or call your- ah. Your other family," she continued, shooting Shane a guilty look. "I'm hanging up. Sober the fuck up." 

Shane took another bite. "Gangbanger brother get busted?" 

She grimaced and stole his pizza from his hand. He didn't try to hard to stop her. "Pissed in public. What kind of an idiot- I've got to call Daryl for him, but I am not going to rescue him tonight."

"You really out of bail money?" 

"Actually, no. I'm pretty flush right now. Got a big commission, bar's been hopping, and Maria just sold that piece I left over there with her. She wants me to do another show as well, some Roaring Twenties themed thing she's been playing with. I just don't want to go to Atlanta PD tonight," Ace admitted with a shrug. She brought the mascara wand back to her face, leaning toward the mirror. "I'm going dancing, damn it. Merle can wait. Maybe he'll learn." 

"That's the spirit. Probably should put some clothes on before we leave though," Shane said thoughtfully. He waved with the pizza he'd reclaimed from her. "Your ass is hanging out of the towel." 

"Well, stop looking then," she said mildly, and Shane grinned. 

"So," Shane asked as they did the angry stalk through the trees. The other three had gone back, at least he assumed so. "Where are we going?" 

"Findin' these assholes. We find them, we probably find Ace and Merle, right?" Daryl muttered. "Went this way. That strip mall bullshit they were headin' to is up over there, so's most likely gonna run right into 'em." 

Shane squinted dubiously at the trees and then in the direction Daryl vaguely gestured, but what the hell ever, right? This was Dixon's domain. Tracking, anyway. "Hey, Dixon." 

"What?" 

"How'd you learn to do all this shit?" 

Daryl scoffed, frowning at the trees and then starting off again, but a little to the right of their original path. "Will." 

Shane sighed. "Yeah, I know, jackass. I've heard. I mean, you're Atlanta. You grew up in the city, but you and Merle-" 

"The fuckin' cabin," Daryl said. "Will'd haul us out there; get us lost in the woods. Sometimes he'd help us find our way back. More often he'd been drunk off his ass and it'd be up to me'n'Merle to figure it out. Will liked to think he could fuckin' hunt, but he didn't do shit. Like most everything else." 

"I'd like to kill him." 

"Cancer beat ya to it," Daryl muttered. "Shit, they detoured here. Somethin' happened." 

Shane squinted at the ground with Daryl, then looked up through the trees. "There's buildings over that rise there." 

"Yeah," Daryl grunted. "Saviors took off the other way, though. Something- shit." 

Shane braced himself. That wasn't a tone he liked. "What happened?" 

Daryl pointed. "See all that broken shit? Herd came through. Big one." 

"Which direction would Ace and Merle have been?" Shane asked slowly, staring at the broken branches Daryl pointed to. Now that he saw the first one, they were everywhere. 'Big' didn't quite seem to cover it. 

Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out two of the tiny bottles, handing one to Shane and taking the other for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? It's my birthday! Thanks to all of you for sticking with me as I struggled my way through this year. Some of you guys who comment have read every word I've written (or very close to it) and you have no idea how much I appreciate it! Every comment, kudos, and hit keeps me going, and I adore you all. Even if it doesn't seem like when I'm torturing you with the angst. You are the BEST, and I love and appreciate you so much! XOXO- JustRamblinOn


	75. Lie #75: "I'm Not Going Anywhere, Except Out There To Look Some More." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence

Shane took the bottle. He nodded grimly toward the rise, and the back of a strip mall he could see through the trees. "We need to go up there." 

Daryl tossed his tiny bottle aside and grunted. Neither of them moved. 

"Fuck," Shane muttered. He knocked back his own, chucked it over his shoulder, and went. 

They rounded the buildings and found a handful of walkers. Daryl's crossbow twanged and the first one went down with a bolt where its cheek used to be. Shane moved in with his knife rather than start shooting, and the two of them made short work of the dead. 

Shane nudged one with his toe and pulled Daryl's bolt free from the mostly-gone soup of its face and brains. None of these assholes were fresh dead. "This the place?" he asked, handing the bolt over. 

Dixon was squinting at the buildings and the asphalt, but how the hell he thought he was going to figure out what happened up here was beyond Shane. "Naw," he said absently. "Ain't the one they was gonna hit. But- look at this." 

Shane let out a shaky breath and followed Daryl over to a car. It looked a little less abandoned than some of the others, with mud and guts on the tires and splattered up over the doors. There was an arm entangled in one front wheel, and the passenger door stood open. 

Daryl bent and peered in, and Shane followed his lead. There was a an awful lot of blood on the seat, he thought, the sinking feeling coming back. 

Daryl touched a finger to it and grunted. "Ain't fresh, but ain't old either." 

"So, what. About four days?" Shane asked grimly. 

Dixon didn't speak. He frowned at the car, rising abruptly and rounding to the driver's side to open the door. He bent to pick something up, then muttered "fuck" in a tone so vicious it made Shane physically flinch back. Cold started creeping up from somewhere near his heart when Daryl kicked the tire and screamed wordlessly. 

He rounded the vehicle as Daryl stared out into nothing, jaw tight. Dixon held his hand out without a word, and Shane took the blood-stained map. He glanced at the circles, the neat handwriting, and it wasn't Ace's. 

The bag in the backseat caught his eye even as he started to ask Daryl what the hell the map went- not that he didn't already know, but shit hope was a bitch- so he handed it back instead and opened the rear door. He flipped the bag open, stared inside, and sank to the ground right there, back against the tire and hand over his eyes as he tried to fight the overwhelming tide of despair that threatened to drown him. 

Daryl dropped down heavily. "Denise marked the place. Ace took it with 'em." 

"I figured." His voice came out rough and harsh, and he didn't try to do anything about it. He couldn't, not yet. "There's charcoal in the bag. And a shit ton of paint." 

Daryl scoffed, and Shane figured if he hadn't known him for so damn long now- and he hadn't been so much like his fucking sister- Shane would have read that as anger or annoyance. As it was, he knew guilt and pain when he heard it from a damn Dixon, and somehow that sound drew him out of his own misery. He'd made a promise, and if Daryl couldn't keep his shit together, Shane would just have to keep on keeping on with it, wouldn't he? 

He opened his eyes and rubbed his face, glancing over to see Ace's twin picking at his thumbnail. Shane automatically slapped his hand away from his mouth, earning him a glare and a sneer. 

"I ain't your girlfriend." 

Shane shrugged. "Don't much care. Leave your damn thumbnail alone. What's the next step? Where do we go from here?" 

Daryl scoffed again and reached into his pocket. 

"I'll knock that away too, so don't even think about it," Shane warned, deadly serious. 

Daryl came out with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, shooting him a look. "Fuckin' try. We can go another round if ya want, but I don't much see the point." 

"Yeah, yeah," Shane mumbled. "Where's the map? Show me where they were." 

Daryl blew smoke from his nose, but did as Shane asked. Shane squinted around, then pointed. "They went that way. They rode into this herd, after something happened, and they got stuck. Yeah. They'd have gone that way." 

"The fuck ya know?" Daryl asked, not even looking. His eyes were closed, head tipped back against the car. 

Shane contemplated decking him. "Cause of the map, asshole. And the herd went back toward the tracks, for Dwight to run into. So, Slugger and the lump would have been trying to break away from it. They wouldn't have followed its path; wouldn't have gone back to whatever went wrong. All that's in that direction is a whole lot of nothing. They'd have tried for shelter or another car. There's this subdivision here, see?" 

Daryl barely spared a glance. "You're not gonna find 'em, Walsh." 

"Damn it, man, I'm not doing this with you again," Shane said wearily. "What the hell do you wanna do, give up?" 

"No," Daryl said softly. "I wanna get revenge. Look, before ya punch me again- I ain't just sayin' this shit to be a jackass. You won't find 'em. Someone lost a lot of damn blood. They wouldn't have made it far. Dwight and his boys? They cain't be the only ones out there. No way. So either- either they got picked up by these fuckin' Saviors, or-" 

Shane shoved to his feet before Daryl could say the 'or'. "I’m gonna look. I have to." 

Dixon sighed. "I gotta track Dwight. Cain't lose him. He's got information; I know it." 

"Fine," Shane said with a shrug. "I'm gonna follow my gut. I'll see you back home." 

Daryl nodded, dropping his cigarette and grinding it out with his toes. "I hope ya right. But ya ain't," he said softly, and clapped Shane on the shoulder as he started back toward the trees. 

"Fuck you too, Dixon," Shane mumbled. He wasn't giving up hope. Not till he saw a walker with a familiar face. 

Shane groaned and stretched as he got out of the Jeep, wondering just what the fuck he was doing here after the week he'd had. He'd pulled doubles nearly every damn day, and if he'd had the sense God gave a grasshopper (as his mama used to say), he'd have been in bed at home, not getting ready to walk into a bar in Atlanta and look for a sexy blue-haired bartender. 

But shit, he hoped to talk to her. They'd had fun, and he wasn't even talking about the truly incredible sex. He needed some fun, needed a smile and some friendly sass, to counteract the shit week he'd had. 

And he felt guilty for not leaving her his number that morning like he'd meant to. Like he'd wanted to. Shit, he hoped she didn't think he was just in it to get in her pants, or this wouldn't be the kind of warm reception he was hoping for. 

The place was busy but not slammed, and he scanned the room and didn't see that eye-catching blue hair. The bar was pretty full, and since he didn't know if she'd be unhappy he showed up again, he slid onto one of the empty high top tables. The cute waitress who'd taken care of him and Rick when they were here the first time came bouncing up a few minutes later, bright smile and hands full of a tray of drinks. 

"Hey, darlin'! Need a menu? Have you been here before?" 

Shane nodded. "Yeah, a couple of times. You waited on my friend and I when we were here the first time." 

"Oh, did I? Sorry, I don't remember," she said, looking genuinely upset. 

Shane laughed and shook his head. "Why would you? Don't worry about it. It's Julie, right?" 

"That's right, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get you?" she said, her smile amping back up as she juggled the tray of drinks and fished a menu from her apron.

Shane studied the bar and decided what the hell. He'd take a shot. "Can I get a Lonely Island In the Middle of A Stormy Sea?" 

She blinked. "That a drink?" 

"Yeah. See if Hipster Thor back there knows what it is," Shane said with a grin and a jerk of his head toward the man who'd been Ace's partner behind the bar the first two times he'd been in here. 

Julie laughed. "Jason would love that description of him. Besides, if he doesn't know, Ace will. I'll hook you up, baby, don't worry." 

"Thanks," Shane said easily, delighted to hear Ace's name said. "No rush, I can see you're busy." 

"What, this? This is pretty tame for around here! Let me go drop these off and I'll get that put in for you," she said with a laugh, and Shane leaned back and looked around the bar again as she sashayed off. 

She was cute, he thought, as were the other two waitresses on the floor tonight. The jukebox pumped out, and people wandered over to drop quarters and punch buttons. A few clearly drunk idiots did the bump and grind to a country song on the dance floor that had been packed the night he'd caught the live music, and he chuckled as he watched them and hoped they'd have the sense to call a cab. 

Julie leaned over the bar, setting her now-empty tray down and waving down Hipster Thor- Jason, she'd called him- and gestured to the couple on the floor. He frowned at them and shook his head, rolling his eyes with a 'look at them' gesture. Julie laughed and nodded, and Shane had a feeling the couple had just been cut off. Then she pointed Shane's way, and Jason frowned and looked over at him. 

Shane tried to pretend he wasn't watching, but he didn't think he succeeded. Thor looked irritated and shrugged, then jerked a thumb toward the door to the kitchen. Julie laughed again- seemed like she did that a lot, and it made Shane smile- and started around the end of the bar. 

Shane figured she was going to find Ace, and he shoved a hand through his hair and hoped she would appreciate the reference and not think he was being a jackass. He leaned against the wall and went back to watching the drunk idiots, now trying to bump and grind to the Rolling Stones. While Shane appreciated the entertainment and the sheer dedication that took, he was offended on behalf of the Glimmer Twins and the rest of the band. His shoulders were shaking, holding in the laughter as the song switched over to some pop sugar bomb of a slow song and the two fumbled their way toward a solid make out session, when Julie reappeared and set a Valhalla mug in front of him. 

"Look, I don't entirely understand this, but Ace said to tell you this was your Lonely Island," Julie said with a shrug. "Also, nice to meet you, Officer Walsh. Ace doesn't really take people home, so we're going to be very interested in you. Want to move to the bar?" 

"I don't know," Shane said honestly, smiling as he sipped and discovered Sam Addams, like he'd expected. He scanned the bar, wondering where the hell she was. "She pissed I asked for the Island, or she seem amused?" 

He caught the flash of blue, and his smile spread when she waved and tossed him a smirk. Thank god. She'd thought it was funny. 

He found nothing. He wasn't surprised. 

He stalked along the road, walking the center line and ignoring the bumping of the bag on his back with every step. 

Ace would want her shit when she made it back, he told himself. He hitched it up on his shoulder and ignored the voice in his head that called him a fool and said she wasn't coming back. If he listened to that voice, he wouldn't go back either. 

And he'd made her a promise. It wouldn't turn out to be just some last call lie, damn it, even if that's what all the others were. 

The sound of an engine behind him drew him out of the dark place he was spiraling toward despite his best efforts. He turned, rifle in hand, and slipped toward the side of the road. Most likely it wasn't friendly, he knew, so- 

He lowered the rifle as the car slowed and Rick stared out at him from the window. He scrubbed a hand over his head, rounded the car, and tossed the bag and the gun in the backseat. He slammed the passenger door and Rick started driving again without a word. 

"Didn't find them. Daryl's tracking Dwight. Rick, I think- Naw." He shook his head, cutting himself off and drumming his fingers on the window. He wouldn't say it. Not yet.

"They're not dead," Rick said firmly. "I know it." 

Shane grunted and squinted out the side window. "What the fuck are you doing out here, man?" 

"Carol left. Morgan and I went to find her." 

That got his attention, Shane thought, turning with wide eyes to Rick. "What?" 

"She left a note. Said she loved us, but that was the problem. When I banished her, back at the prison, for killing Karen and David? She said it was the right choice. She was going to stay gone, but then the Governor came, everything happened, and she stayed. But that she had to leave now and be alone, because she loved us, and so she'd have to kill for us. Said she couldn't do that anymore." Rick shook his head, a tortured look in his eyes, and Shane sighed. 

"Don't, brother," he said wearily. "You didn't make her do a damn thing. She made her choices, just like the rest of us." 

"Yeah. Maybe you're right." 

Silence fell. They were close to home, Shane realized. He couldn't believe how close. Maybe, he thought wildly. Maybe Ace and Merle had made their way back, even while he was out looking for them. 

"Morgan's still out there, looking for her. We found evidence of a fight. Several men dead on the road. Someone struck out over a field, and we followed. Morgan told me to come back. That I was needed here." 

"Morgan's right," Shane grunted. 

"I know. You're needed here, too." 

Shane snorted as Abraham pulled open the gate and Rick drove through. He shot his brother a look and grabbed the door. "I know. I'm not going anywhere, except out there to look some more. I made a promise, Rick. And it's Ace." 

"Yeah," Rick said. "I know." 

\--- Hey. I'm bored. You up? 

The fucking pigs earned him a look that Shane studiously ignored. Which, considering the look was from his companion from the evening before, he probably shouldn't have. But it was a weird time for Slugger to be texting him- early mornings (the way the rest of the world defined them, not that 2 am bullshit she claimed was early morning) weren't really her thing- and shit. He and Gracie both knew there wasn't likely to be a repeat of this. 

Even as his fingers flew over the keys, she slid from the bed without asking who he was messaging and ducked into his bathroom. 

\--- Am now. Got company, but probably not for long. What's up? 

\--- Oh shit sorry. I'll go. 

Shane rolled his eyes and sat up, grabbing his jeans. He didn't bother to zip them, just pulled them over his hips and staggered for the coffee pot, hitting the button to start it brewing and absently wondering what in the hell he could offer the woman currently using his shower for breakfast. Briefly he considered getting into said shower with her, but Ace was texting him at 6:30 in the damn morning. Something was off. 

\--- It ain't exactly a love match, sweetheart. She's in the shower. Probably won't stay for breakfast. Yes, I'll offer. 

\--- Jesus, Dickhead 

Shane laughed as he poured the first, blessed cup of coffee and sipped. He leaned his hip against the counter and sent back one of her dumbass emoticons, just a wink. 

\--- What are you doing today? And don't say the chick 

\--- her name's Gracie. She's a nurse at King County General. And naw, if I was gonna do her I'd have hopped in the shower. Oh well, opportunity missed. I'm working today. Report in at 9; why? 

He set the phone down and smiled when Gracie walked in, hair damp and shoes and bag in hand. "Morning," he said casually. 

"Hey, morning. So, last night was great," she said, tone warm but distant. Shane stifled a grin as she slid one of her high heels on and sipped his coffee instead. "Call me sometime?" 

She glanced at him as she put the second shoe on, not bothering to buckle it, and his phone buzzed on the counter. "I will," he told her, tone matching hers. Both of them knew he didn't have her number. "Be safe." 

She rounded the bar, kissed him lightly and perfunctorily, and headed for the door. "I always am. Bye, Officer Walsh."

"Bye, darlin'," he called, already reaching for his phone to see what Ace had to say. 

"Is Michonne back?" Rick asked Abraham urgently. Shane scanned the line of vehicles at the ready, and the van was missing. 

Abraham shook his head. "She's still out there." 

"Damn it," Shane muttered. "Dixon back? Anyone?" 

Abraham puffed on a fat cigar, his expression saying it clearly. Shane and Rick were the first ones back. Shane scrubbed a hand over his head and started considering his options. 

"You afraid?" Abraham asked. "To go back to it? Let somebody close?" 

"Yeah," Rick whispered. He hooked his thumbs through his gun belt and stared up the road. "Yeah." 

Shane thought about Lori, thought about Jessie, and his heart hurt for his brother. Maybe Rick would get it now, though. Why Shane had to go out there, even with the Saviors threatening. It was Ace. And now it was Michonne. 

"Me too," said Abraham softly. "But now? I think I'm that much more ready to tear the world a brand-new asshole." 

"Jesus fucking Christ," Shane muttered. "You're just like Merle." 

All three of them chuckled, and Abraham blew smoke. "Any second now," he said casually. 

"Help! Rick!" 

Shane whipped around at the same time Rick did, and Enid charged toward them, her face pale and eyes wide. Shane caught her as she skidded to a stop, and Rick got the stubborn-bastard look in his eyes and set a hand on her shoulder. 

"Calm down. What's wrong?" he asked intently. 

Enid sucked in a breath. "It's Maggie. Something's not right." 

Shane took off a dead run, Rick on his heels.


	76. Lie #76: "Because I'll Make It Ok." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence

For someone so all-fired determined to keep everyone at home, Rick sure had let a lot of people leave, Shane thought irritably. Not that he didn't understand it, and not that he didn't think it was needed. It was. 

Something was very wrong with Maggie. She was pale and sweating, clearly in pain. Something wasn't right with the baby. 

Shane had picked her up and carried her into the RV himself. There was no way he was letting anything happen to that kid, or that kid's mother. No fucking way.

Not when it was his fault the kid's dad was wandering around out there instead of here with Maggie.

Abraham drove. Sasha rode shotgun. Carl loaded ammo into a spare magazine at the table. Aaron sat at Maggie's side, and Eugene stared out the window. Shane wasn't entirely sure why Eugene was along- something about needing to talk to Rick desperately- but he'd been in too much of a hurry to get going to complain. Besides, if something happened on the road, they could use all the hands they could get, couldn't they? 

Aaron traded places with Rick, and Shane- who had leaned on the wall beside Maggie after tucking the pillow under her head and hadn't fucking moved since- nodded at Rick. Rick nodded back and dropped to a crouch beside her, taking her hand. "Hey." 

"Hey," she whispered. Shane's hands clenched at the strain in her voice. 

"We're gonna get there. The doctor at the Hilltop, he's gonna make things better." Rick sighed when Maggie didn't respond, her eyes shifting away to stare into space. "Hey," he whispered, touching her hair. "We are. He will."

"How do you know?" Maggie asked finally. 

Shane closed his eyes and tried not to think about what Ace had told him about the night she'd lost her baby. Tried not to think about Ace, and both of her brothers, and Michonne and Glenn and Rosita and Carol being missing.

"Everything we've done, we've done together," Rick said softly. "We got here together, and we're still here. Things have happened, but it's always worked out for us 'cause its always been all of us. That's how I know. Cause as long as it's all of us, we can do anything." 

Shane scrubbed a hand over his eyes, shoved off the wall, and slid past Rick and Carl watching silently behind him.

He wanted one blessed moment alone, to push back the worry and the guilt, but that wasn't going to happen in this rusty bucket of bolts that was an RV. Fucking Dale, he thought suddenly, viciously, for no real reason other than the rising tide of emotion churning in his mind. 

He stared out the window as the trees rolled past and waited for the next fucking shoe to drop. There was always another shoe. 

"She's going to be ok, Uncle Shane." 

He turned, reluctantly, and met Carl's sincere look. Kid had one eye and did the Rick Grimes 'stubborn bastard earnest' look better than the original model, Shane thought. He hooked his arm around the kid's shoulders, pulling him in for a rough hug. "Course she will. Maggie's tough, and that damn ninja and the doctor over there will-" 

"I mean Aunt Ace," Carl interrupted him.

Shane sighed and turned back to the window. "Yeah. Yeah, I hope so, little man." 

"Been awhile since you called me that." 

"Guess it has," Shane agreed. "Probably 'cause you're not so little anymore." 

Carl grinned. "I still like it, though. I mean it. She's going to be ok. She'll do everything she can to get back to you, and she can do a lot." 

The last bit came out wry and half-amused, and Shane chuckled. "Yeah, she can, kid. Yes she can." 

Shane shoved a hand through his hair as he came in Rick's back door, gun in hand and wild fear coursing through him. He'd left Rick there. Left him in that hellhole of a hospital room, and he couldn't believe it. 

Couldn't believe what he'd seen- military gunning down living people, and then the dead came shambling through- and couldn't believe Rick was gone. 

But he was. That was the only reason Shane had left. Rick was dead. He'd checked for a pulse on three different arteries and there was nothing. He'd tried to bring his brother out of that bullshit anyway, but he couldn't do that and live. So he'd left him there, because Shane had to live. 

The reasons why came charging down the stairs as he called Lori's name softly. Lor held Shane's off-duty piece in both hands, her eyes wide and terrified, but her grip was rock steady. Carl huddled behind her, clinging to her shirt, and Shane breathed a sigh of relief. Some of the sick churning in his gut eased. 

But not all. 

"Come on, we gotta go," he hissed, meeting Lori's eyes. He shook his head, just slightly, when she started to ask a question, and her eyes closed as pure pain slashed across her face. She nodded acceptance, neither of them ready to tell Carl Rick was gone. Not yet. They had to get somewhere safe first- wherever the hell that might be.

Shane looked away from her pain when it called to his own, shoved his hand through his hair and sniffed, and cleared his throat. "We gotta get what supplies we can. Got my gear back in the car already. Clean out the food and shit from the cabinets-" 

"We already did. Mom packed," Carl said. "Uncle Shane, what's going on?" 

Shane dropped to a crouch and grabbed Carl's shoulders, looking him in the eye as Lori tucked the gun into her jeans at her back and started moving through the living room, collecting photo albums. "Listen to me, little man. It's gonna be ok, you hear me? It's all gonna be ok. There's some crazy shit happening out there, and we gotta go, but we're headed to Atlanta, alright? It'll be figured out there." 

"How do you know?" 

Shane mustered up a smile he couldn't feel and ruffled the kid's hair. "Because I'll make it ok. I'll watch out for you, little man. Like I always do, right?" 

Carl grinned at him. "Right." 

"Shane? Shane!" Lori sounded fucking horrified, and Shane moved to her side and looked out the window. 

Someone- a former someone- staggered up the street in jerky movements he recognized. Up the road, someone living let out an ear-piercing shriek. 

"Fuck," he whispered. "We gotta move. Come on, both of you. Carl, between us. Lor, stay on me. Out the back, ok? Keep close and stay quiet." 

Lori's fingers dug into his shoulder, and Shane thought about the dead weight of Rick's arm as he tossed it around his neck and lifted him from the hospital bed. He swallowed back bile and shoved aside how the fuck he was going to tell the kid his dad was dead and it was Shane's fault. He had to focus right now, on getting them out and keeping them alive. 

He owed it to Rick.

The RV slowed and Shane leaned over the back of Abraham's seat. "Shit," he muttered. "What the hell?" 

"What?" Rick called, voice moving toward the front. 

"Enemy close," Abraham answered. 

Rick clapped him on the shoulder as he reached Shane's side, and Shane studied what the fuck was up ahead of them. Vehicles blocked the road. Eight men with guns stood in front of the loose barricade, with some poor sucker bound and laid at the feet of a man who was clearly the head asshole in charge. 

"We doin' this?" Abraham asked. "I can go straight through, but you folks might wanna grab yourselves an oh-shit handle." 

"Jesus, you're insane," Shane muttered. "Rick?" 

"No. We're gonna go talk," Rick decided. 

Shane took the rifle Carl held out to him and followed his brother out the door. Talk. Ok. 

Rick held his hands up in a show of peace Shane most definitely did not copy, standing at his brother's elbow and holding the rifle relaxed but ready. Carl and the others had filed out behind him. Shane questioned how wise that was. Didn't want to let these bastards know how many they had with them- or how few they'd left in Alexandria, he thought uneasily. 

All their fighters- all of Rick's band of assholes from Georgia and beyond, anyway- were scattered right now, with Father Gabriel in charge of home and Judy. 

"He's someone who was with a whole lot of someones who didn't listen." Head asshole in charge broke the silence, and Shane forced himself to focus on the here and now. All the other problems would have to wait until they lived through this and got Maggie to the Hilltop. 

Rick's jaw worked and the words sounded like they hurt coming out. "We can make a deal. Right here, right now."

"That's right! We can!" Head asshole beamed, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Give us all your stuff. We'll probably have to kill one of you, that's just the way it is, but then we can start moving forward on business. All you have to do is listen." 

Shane glanced at Abraham and Sasha, wondering if this was the same speech they'd gotten, and if it had been delivered with the same amount of cheerful crazy. Sasha looked pissed as hell and Abraham somehow seemed both bored and annoyed, so he was betting yes. 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly, and Shane tensed. 

He knew that damn tone.

Rick's head tilted to the side and a slight smile turned up the corners of his lips, just as empty as the head asshole's over there. He shifted so his rifle was at the ready in his arms, shrugging slightly, and Shane's finger twitched on the trigger. 

"That deal's not gonna work for us," Rick continued, stubborn bastard firmly in place. "Fact is, I was about to ask for all of your stuff, only I'm thinking I don't have to kill any of you. Any more of you," he added, emphasizing the 'more'.

"Jesus Christ, Rick," Shane muttered. Fuckin' warn him next time, he thought as the asshole's face went hard. If he was about to get thrown into the middle of a firefight, he should have had a minute's notice, damn it. Was that too much to ask? Like being fucking cops all over again. 

Beside the now clearly pissed off asshole, some dude stared Shane right in the eyes and started aggressively shaking a can of spray paint. Shane shifted, glancing from him to Rick and then back. 

"I know for a fact you don't have to shake that shit that long," Shane muttered. Behind him, Carl made a noise that might have been a laugh, but the Savior with the paint bent and started spraying the stomach of the poor fuck at his feet.

"Sorry. My deal is the only deal," head asshole said, not sounding sorry at all. "We don't negotiate." 

Rick glanced at him and Shane shrugged. "Your party," he said easily.

Rick's face didn't change, but he circled his fingers in the air and their people started falling back toward the RV doors. "Yeah, me and my people are leaving." 

Shane stayed at Rick's shoulder, keeping his eyes on the Saviors as they moved backward toward the door. Head asshole sighed and lifted one hand in a wave. 

"Ok, friend. Plenty of ways to get to where you're going," he offered cheerfully, turning his back on them. 

Shane stopped in the doorway of the RV as Rick decided to chat some more. 

"Wanna make today your last day on Earth?" Rick asked, and Shane stifled a groan and an eye roll. Inside, Carl didn't manage to do the same, and Shane would have cracked the fuck up under different circumstances. 

"No," head asshole called, voice thoughtful. "But that is a good thing to bring up. Think about it. What if it’s the last day on earth for you? For someone you love? What if that's true?" 

Rick's face went blank and hard, and Shane dropped back down to the ground at his side in case he did anything goddamn stupid and reckless. Head asshole shrugged, resting one foot on the schmuck. 

"Maybe you should be extra nice to those people in that RV, cause you never know." He snapped abruptly, and Shane scrubbed a hand over his hair and contemplated dragging Rick away by the back of his jacket when Rick's head tilted dangerously. "Just like that. Be kind to each other. Like you said-"

The asshole flashed that empty grin and pointed at Rick. "Like it was your last day on Earth." 

Rick nodded, his face considering, and glared out with undisguised hatred. "You do the same," he said, and ducked around Shane and into the RV. 

Goddamn dramatic son of a bitch. Always had to get the last word, Shane thought in despair. He stared at the head asshole, lip curling in a sneer at the motherfucker's cheerful wave, before following Rick in. 

"Now what?" he asked, leaning over the seat to stare out the front windshield at Rick's side. Abraham started the engine as Rick sighed. 

"Back up- slowly," Rick said. "We find another way."


	77. Lie #77: "While The Kid Might Have Been Right, He Was Wrong, Too." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
references to past domestic violence/abuse

Carl wanted to end it when they hit the next road block, and Shane agreed. He was ready. Maybe there were a fuck ton of them, sitting perched on trucks along the road, but they could do it. Hell, he'd do it alone if he needed to.

Rick squinted and sighed. "No. Not now. They've been waiting; they're ready. One of us behind the wheel, that's six on sixteen. We're gonna play it our way. How we want it. Right?" he added, glancing over his shoulder at Shane and Carl. 

Shane shrugged. Carl nodded. "Right." 

Abraham put the RV in reverse, and some asshole up ahead fired into the air in a clear signal. Which meant there were more road blocks ahead. 

Rick's eyes were pinched and worried when he looked at Shane. 

"How are we on gas?" Rick asked Abraham. 

"Half a tank. I pulled some more cans before we left." 

Shane rubbed a hand over his head and thought about the map, all the different angles between where they were and where they needed to be. 

"Those weren't the same men that blocked the road before," Sasha said grimly. 

Shane grunted. "Same group." 

"Different soldiers," Abraham agreed. "They got numbers." 

"We keep driving. We get her there." Rick's tone was confident, but Shane knew his brother well enough to know the man was concerned. 

So was Shane. 

"We will. Even if we have to shove each and every one of them up their own asses," Abraham declared. 

"Goddamn it, man. Stop hanging out with Merle," Shane grumbled, unthinking. 

It slammed into him all over again, and he closed his eyes against the wave of worry so strong it almost brought him to his knees. Slugger. Merle. Daryl. Michonne, Rosita, Glenn, Carol and Morgan. Damn it, he thought. 

Abraham hit the breaks, and Shane's eyes snapped back open. 

They'd strung walkers along the road like the world's grossest daisy chain, and Shane frowned at the trees instead of the dead as they approached slowly. This wasn't secure, he thought, unless the Saviors had people here, guarding it. They could just kill the walkers, unwrap the chain, and get through. There had to be something else to it. 

"Putting together a red rover like that takes people," Eugene observed. "A lot of them." 

The chains went through the walkers, Shane noticed. He looked back at the trees, knowing deep down in his gut that something wasn't quite right here. 

"Come on, let's do this," Rick muttered. 

"Dad," Carl said, voice flat. 

Shane swallowed hard. He'd heard that tone from the kid before, and suddenly he was back in the prison, helping Maggie from the car and wondering how the fuck to tell Ace her brothers had gone off together, and Carl called 'Uncle Shane' and turned his world upside down. He turned and followed the kids' stare and Rick's, and his blood ran cold. 

"Fuck," he growled. 

Jammed into the walker's head, planted into its skull in a grotesque parody of growing hair, were two of Michonne's dreads. Her vest hung off the walker's shoulders, and Rick stared, head tilted and face white. 

"That's Michonne's," Aaron said softly. 

"That's Daryl's," Sasha added, jerking her chin toward a walker down the line. 

Shane stalked over and ripped the bolts out, swinging around to glare at Rick as he stared down the walker with Michonne's hair and vest. "You get it now?" he snapped. 

"Yeah," Rick said slowly. "Yeah, I do." 

Rick snatched the hair free and swung his ax up to take the walker down, and gunfire exploded from the trees and lit up the ground at their feet. 

"Get back to the RV!" Rick yelled, and Shane dove through the hail of bullets to his brother's side. Their people fired into the trees, and Shane covered Rick's ass wordlessly as he hacked the damn arm off one of the walkers with that goddamn ax. 

Shane dropped the walker that went for Rick's back as soon as the chain was broken, and Sasha killed enough of them to open the road up. They fell back as the RV roared to life, Shane grabbing Rick by the back of the coat and shoving him inside. 

"Damn it," Shane panted as Eugene floored it. "That was too easy." 

"You call that easy?" Abraham muttered. 

"What's that sound?" Sasha asked when they were clear. 

"Undercarriage could have caught a bullet. Or it could be transmission. It could be nothing," Eugene answered. 

Shane rubbed his eyes and added the RV dying abruptly to the list of things he was worried about. "They were firing at our feet," he said to Rick, eyes closed. 

"They blocked the road, but they weren't trying to stop us. They want us in this direction," Rick agreed. 

"Barton Road takes us north, but they gotta know we want to go north," Sasha put in. 

"Meadows. Could take us east a piece, but we can get back on track on Mayhew." Eugene agreed. Abraham was back behind the wheel, knuckles white he gripped it so tightly. The others bent over a map and Shane stared at Rick, who stared at Michonne's hair in his hand. 

"We're down to a third of a tank. We can top it off at the next stop, but no refills after that." 

Aaron came out of the back and looked at Rick, worry written all over his face. "She's burning up," he whispered. 

Shane closed his eyes and banged his head against the RV wall. 

"Rick!" 

Shit, he thought. Now what?

Shane was on his way to Atlanta PD to check in with Casey about Malcolm fucking Hall when he saw it. He hit the signal, whipped through a turn too damn fast, and parked with a slam of his breaks. He ignored the dirty looks from pedestrians as he climbed out of the Jeep and settled his police hat firmly and pointedly on his head. He tucked his thumbs in his back pockets and strolled up the street he'd just cut across, playing it cool despite what he'd just fucking seen. 

He stopped to stare from across the road, and shook his head with a half-laugh. "Damn it, Slugger," he muttered. 

Even if he hadn't been staring at his own goddamn zombified face, he'd have known that was her work without the tag. He never needed the tag anymore; he knew her work too well. He knew her mood from the colors she used, the way she layered the paint, the subject matter. 

And for this one? Shit. 

Slugger was pissed. 

He sighed and resettled the cap on his head, heart twisting as he looked at it. She was so angry still, he thought. Four months in and she was still just as pissed. She was so pissed he'd tried to get her away from that fucking abusive bastard, she'd painted him as the fucking undead, gun in hand and sunken, pale eyes, and- 

A woman glanced at him and then at the wall, and her eyes were wide as they shot back to him. He sighed and pulled the ball cap off his head, stuffing the brim into his back pocket and flashing her a charming smile as he deliberately headed back to his Jeep. 

He pulled out his phone and opened her message chain, staring at her dancing blue eyes and wishing once again that he'd done something just a little bit differently. 

\--- Hope you're doing ok. Saw you started a new series. I like the one with the zombie cop, that felt pointed. Maybe I'm flattering myself there. 

As usual, he didn't get a response.

He shoved a hand through his hair, slammed his palm on the steering wheel a few times, and put the Jeep in reverse. "I miss the shit out of you, Slugger," he whispered as he cruised past his own reanimated corpse decorating a wall. 

He wished he could quit worrying about her. He wished he could quit missing her. He should just forget her, damn it. She'd made her choice, right? But that damn stubborn woman was one of his two best friends, and Shane had never been able to turn his back on someone that important to him. 

"Guess you're stuck with me, sweetheart, even if you don't want me around anymore," he muttered. 

There were too many men. It was like they were breeding like fucking rabbits, Shane thought. They turned back, again, and chose another path.

They were blocked, again. 

Shane stared at the logs built up into a wall across the road and wanted to punch someone. Anyone. Shit, it didn't have to be a person, and he was contemplating driving his fist into the logs themselves. 

He should have gone looking for Ace days ago. He shouldn't have let Rick convince him not to. 

Now Ace and both of her brothers were missing or dead, Michonne was either dead or in the Savior's hands, Rosita and Glenn probably were as well, and Maggie- Maggie was going to lose that baby because Shane couldn't get her to Hilltop. 

Shane was failing her like he'd failed everyone. 

"These tracks. They would indicate they not only have people, but some big-ass toys and capabilities," Eugene said slowly. 

"What it indicates," Abraham snapped, "is we are neck deep up shit creek with our mouths wide open. And we don't have one crazy Dixon woman with a grenade launcher around this time." 

Shane flinched and whirled, ready to rip Abraham a new one for mentioning Ace, and the man fell from the overpass behind them. 

He stared, watching a man die by hanging, and he didn't even see him struggle. All he had eyes for was what was spray painted onto his shirt. 

"I can try and break the chain!" Aaron called into the silence. 

"No," Rick said slowly. "It won't work. And we need the bullets. Shane, brother-" 

"You see it?" he asked, and Shane heard the danger in his own voice as if from a million miles away. 

Rick's shoulder brushed his. "I see it." 

"Rick." That was all he managed, fear sending his blood pounding in his ears as he stared at Ace's tag in bright orange on a dying man's dirty shirt. 

"I know. Ok? I know. First we get Maggie to the doctor. Then we go after our people," Rick said grimly. 

"That asshole with the paint. He wouldn't have- he wouldn't have known Ace's tag unless-" 

"Shane, I need your help. I need your help," Rick hissed, turning his back on the dead man and grabbing Shane's shoulder. "Are you with me?" 

He tore his eyes away from her tag as heat spread along his back. From the way it reflected in Rick's eyes, they'd lit the pile of logs up. They were being herded, and these bastards had Ace, as well as Daryl and Michonne. They had everyone. 

He wondered what the point of even trying to get to Hilltop anymore was. Maggie was going to lose that baby, and they wouldn't make it there anyhow. Every damn road was blocked. 

He wondered if any of their people were still alive. 

"You're treating your people good, right?" Head asshole from the first roadblock called from behind the pyre. 

Shane went back to staring at Ace's tag. 

"Like it was your last day on Earth? Or maybe one of theirs. You better go. It's gonna get hot. You go get where you're going." 

"Go. Go," Rick ordered. 

Shane stayed put as the others jogged to the RV. Rick grabbed his shoulder and started hauling him forward, away from the fire. 

"You're not staying here. I need you, damn it, Shane. So does she. So does Maggie," Rick hissed. 

The asshole wearing Ace's tag opened clouded eyes and snarled. Shane got on the damn RV ahead of Rick.

"So what's the play?" Abraham asked. 

Shane stood, back against the door and eyes closed. What was the play? Goddamn it, didn't he see that there was no play? They'd been beaten. It was over. 

"She needs a doctor," Rick said, voice wild and urgent. 

Shane snorted. "No shit. We need a clear road." 

"There's two more routes north from here," Sasha offered. 

"And they're blocked," Shane muttered. "Rick, it's over, brother." 

"Shut up or help, Uncle Shane." 

Shane's eyes opened in surprise, and he stared at Carl's furious face. "Shit, little man." 

"Carl-" Rick started, but Carl jerked a shoulder in a move an awful lot like Daryl's and kept glaring at Shane. 

"No. Don't do this. They're alive, and we need to get them. But first we have to take care of Maggie. So snap out of it," he insisted. 

Shane scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Kid's right. As usual," he muttered. "I'm right too, though. They're gonna be waiting for us. So. Who's got ideas?" 

Carl smiled at him and Shane's eyes slid guiltily away from his. Carl was right. They needed to take care of Maggie. 

Then he could storm one of those goddamn road blocks and take out as many of those sons of bitches as possible before he went down. Because while the kid might have been right, he was wrong too. 

They were dead. She was dead. He could feel it. 

Thought you promised her, Dickhead, he thought bitterly. Don't give up hope until you see the body. 

Well, he'd promised her a lot of things, and every damn one of them became one last call lie after another. He'd take care of Maggie, and then he'd do his best to come up with a plan that didn't involve taking himself out. But if there wasn't one- 

He had ideas. That asshole with the fake smile was top on his list. 

"So they're ahead of us, probably behind us," Eugene said abruptly. His voice shook, but when Shane looked at him, his face was set. "But they're not waiting on us, per se, they're waiting on this rust bucket. And they don't know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon." 

Rick looked at Shane. He looked back, scrubbing a hand over his head. "Shit, brother," he said softly. "That might work." 

"You on board?" Rick asked. 

Shane looked at Maggie, pale and sweating. He thought about promises, and Ace's voice sharp and pissed telling him he wouldn't give up until he held her body in his arms. He drew in a breath and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm on board." 

Hope really was a bitch.


	78. Lie #78: "It's Ok. We're Gonna Be Ok, Rhee." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
references to past domestic violence/abuse

Shane walked to one side of Rick, Carl on the other. Rick, Abraham, Aaron, and Sasha carried Maggie on a stretcher, and Shane and Carl were on walker patrol. 

One staggered out of the darkness, whole-ass tree branch through his rotted guts, and the kid took the top half of his head clean off. Shane kept his eyes peeled, gun in one hand and machete in the other. So far, they'd done well. They'd covered the first few miles, and Shane was going to swap in for Rick in a bit. They'd all take turns on guard. Keep their eyes sharp, and give people a rest. 

Maggie was already asking them to let her walk it, but none of them were going to do any such damn thing. 

"I heard what you told her when we were leaving," Carl said to Rick. "We can do anything. Because we'll do anything we need to do. We have and we will." 

Shane thought about a farm, and Ace shaking her head and snapping that she didn't care. She didn't care what he'd done to Otis, because he'd done what he had to do to get back to her. 

He turned when he thought he heard a twig snap and swallowed past the lump in his throat. She'd do anything she had to do to get back to him, too, he knew. She'd done it when that fucking cockroach had her. She'd done it when the prison fell. She'd done it when they'd been moving the herd and she and Daryl ran into these Savior assholes the first time. 

Shit, he thought in wonder. How did those Grimes boys do it? He almost believed she was still alive, and that she'd be ok. 

"What happened to Denise- I'm not gonna let anybody die like that again," Carl said firmly. 

Shane groaned. "Shit, kid. You can't say things like that. Can't make that kind of promise in this world; it'll make you a liar like it's last call." 

In the darkness, someone started whistling. 

The fuckers were everywhere, and they were toying with them. Shane could see some of them moving in the trees, and he shot a wild look over at Rick as the whistling echoed all around. 

What the fuck did they do now? he wondered. 

Rick jerked his head toward the trees, a grim look in his eyes. "Go. Go!" 

They took off running, Sasha and Aaron no longer helping carry Maggie. Rick and Abraham had her stretcher, and it couldn't have been pleasant for her to be jostled around the she was. Maggie never made a single damn sound, and Shane wondered, once again, if it was too late to get her to the doctor. 

He trilled a whistle- a different sound than these motherfuckers were making- and considered popping one between the eyes when he showed himself. But if Shane fired, all of them would fire, and someone would get killed. It was just the way it was in the dark, and with Maggie to protect- no, they couldn't risk it. 

He moved to Carl's side as Rick changed direction on a dime at his signal, and they made for a gap in the trees. They ducked through branches and into a clearing, Shane wondering if they were being herded. 

Then the goddamn spotlight came on and he froze with everyone else, lifting a hand to block his eyes and try to see what was coming. Because god knew, something was coming. 

With midnight ten minutes away, Shane watched Ace and Jason pull drinks with concentrated fervor for the crowd filling the Lullaby. When she'd told him three years ago that New Year's Eve was- like Halloween- a big-ass deal for the bar, Shane hadn't believed her. Now it was his favorite place to be on both of those holidays- and it sure as hell beat pulling duty.

He'd tried to convince Rick to come with him, but as usual, it didn't work. Oh well, he thought as Ace poured with both hands, crossed them, and repeated the action. Jason snatched the glasses from under her and added them to a tray with the ease of long-time partners, and she dropped those bottles and picked up two more, shifting slightly to a line of six shot glasses waiting for her, and filled them all with one smooth motion. 

He grinned when she didn't spill a drop on the worktop below. 

The whole time she was chattering to the people at the bar in front of her, and they laughed as she tossed the bottle absently and Jason snatched it out of the air to add to one of his own lined-up glasses. He shook his head as she grabbed the tray he'd emptied and dropped beside her, started loading it with her finished drinks, and yelled Anika's name. 

She looked around blankly, checked the printer, and then fist bumped Jason when he finished his and looked around as well. They wandered down the bar toward where Shane sat against the wall in his usual spot, putting bottles away and chatting with each other and customers. 

"Five minutes to spare!" she declared, leaning one hip on the worktop near him. "Man, I want a cigarette." 

Shane shrugged. "Go for it." 

"I'll miss the ball drop," she laughed. "Otherwise I would." 

"Fair enough. Don't see what all the fuss is about, but to each their own." 

She glanced at the clock and grabbed two shot glasses, reaching up for the Patron. "Jason! Get your ass over here!" 

He ducked back out of the kitchen, adjusting his topknot. "What? Oh, shit, already?" 

"Yeah! You good, Dickhead? Ready for midnight?" 

Shane snorted and held up his Jack and Coke. "Yeah, I'm set. Weird little tradition you have." 

"Well, since when I have a date on New Year's, he's usually playing a gig somewhere, and Jason here couldn't stop giggling the one time we locked lips, kissing isn't really an option unless I pick a random customer. That doesn't tend to end well," she said with a shrug. "Shots are far more fun and less depressing. Though god knows I'd love to have someone to kiss; it's been a hot minute." 

Shane snorted. "Amen, Slugger," he said, doing a mock toast as the countdown began. 

Ace handed Jason his shot, and he looked disgustedly between the two of them. "I mean," he said dryly. "You're both here. You've done it before. You wanna snog someone that badly, maybe give each other a thought." 

Shane caught Ace's eye and lifted an eyebrow at her. She held his look long enough that Jason sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically, muttering under his breath and the noise of the crowd. 

"Five! Four! Three! Two!" 

"Oh, what the hell," Ace muttered, and tossed back her shot before setting her knee on the worktop, boosting up to lean over the bar and grab a handful of Shane's shirt. He didn't have time to do more than blink in surprise before she pulled him toward her and fastened her lips on his, and he fumbled his glass before managing to set it on the bar- hopefully without spilling it everywhere. 

He threaded his fingers in her hair as he kissed her back, her tongue sweeping into his mouth and leaving him tasting tequila and that electric something that was pure Ace. Cheering erupted around the bar, and somehow over it all he still heard Jason's half-yelled "holy shit." 

His hand slid from Ace's hair to her face, cupping her cheek as the kiss went abruptly from damn steamy to slow and sweet. Her lips lingered on his for a moment after they both knew it was over, and then he pressed his forehead to hers. He opened his eyes to Dixon blue ones staring back at him, and they drew apart at the same moment. 

He settled back into his seat and picked up his glass again, noting and ignoring Jason's wide, questioning eyes. He also noticed Ellie frozen in the kitchen doorway, and he wondered how many more of the Lullaby's staff were watching. They'd been making comments for as long as he'd been coming around, after all, and after that-

Ace's eyes hadn't left his, and they both started laughing at the same moment. 

"Shit, Slugger. You need a damn date," he said casually, taking a sip. 

She wrinkled her nose. "No, thanks. I'm good." 

"Goddamn it, you two," Jason groaned. "Just admit you're in love with each other already! Shit!" 

He and Ace started laughing again, and Jason looked up like he was praying for patience. The printer sounded and Ace patted Jason on the shoulder sympathetically. "Sorry, hun. We're friends, that's all. Right, Dickhead?" 

"Ehhh. Naw," he teased. "I don't like you enough to be friends." 

"Oh, fuck you," she laughed, heading for the ticket. 

"No, thank you," he called, and she flashed him an appreciative look and reached for another bottle. 

Men filtered out of the trees behind them, grinning and smug. The spill of blinding light came from vehicles in a semi-circle, headlights flipped on all at once- instant, brutal spotlight. There were far, far too many assholes with guns for Shane's comfort, and kneeling on the ground in front of the hunk of junk RV, Eugene looked fucking terrified. 

The motherfuckers wouldn't stop the goddamn whistling. Shane backed up, pulling close to Carl as they panned for threats, which of course they fucking found. 

Shane didn't know why he felt so calm and collected, especially with Rick getting his 'world's gone to shit and we're all fucked, might as well make a grand exit' face and barely-controlled fear in Carl's, but here he was. They were fucked, Rick's face was right, and there was absolutely no way out of this trap. So he might as well just calm the fuck down and wait for the right moment, he guessed. 

If that moment ever came. 

The whistling cut off as abruptly as it had started. "Good," a familiar voice called, and the head asshole in charge from the first roadblock wandered up, hands behind his back and that empty smile on his lips. "You made it! Welcome to where you're going." 

He spread his hands and glanced around the circle of men, now silent and watchful. Shane rubbed a hand over his head and contemplated putting a bullet in this prick. He wondered if this was Negan. There was certainly enough crazy in his eyes, he decided, but it didn't feel quite right. 

"We'll take your weapons," the asshole declared. He locked eyes with Rick and Shane, pulled his gun, and pointed it right at the kid. "Now." 

Shane felt the first stirring of fear-fueled temper and moved this fucker up to the top of his list of people to kill. He also flipped his gun around and held it out butt first. There was a gun on Carl. Shane was going to hand over his, as asked. 

"We can talk about-" Rick started, voice desperate.

Asshole didn't blink, and he certainly didn't bite. "We're done talking. Time to listen. This one gets it." 

He grabbed the gun from Shane's hand and strolled over to Carl as Saviors closed in on all of them. That was fine with Shane, even as some douchebag snatched his machete from his belt, because at least there wasn't a gun in Carl's face anymore.

"That's yours, right?" the asshole said softly. 

Carl stared him down, sweat rolling off him like it was off all of them, and Shane couldn't help the fierce pride as Carl held the asshole's eyes and didn't say a damn word. Asshole chuckled a little, like he was just as impressed. "Yeah. It's yours." 

He flicked the brim of Carl's hat up, and for a second Shane thought the kid would snap at his fingers like a damn dog. As amusing as that would have been- Shane really hated this guy- he was glad when Carl took it without flinching. 

"Ok," asshole said, tapping Carl's gun in his hand as he looked back over their group. "Let's get her down and get you on your knees! Lots to cover." 

Shane threw the Jeep in park and didn't bother to take the key from the ignition. His heart was racing, pure panic making his hands shake as he flung himself from the driver's door and raced around to the passenger side. The ER doors swooshed open as he drew Slugger into his arms, her eyes still closed and body limp. 

She was still out cold, damn it. That couldn't be a good thing, right? He thought wildly. It couldn't be. She shouldn't still be unconscious. 

A nurse rounded the counter as he came in, Slugger's cheek against his shoulder and what was no doubt a goddamn manic look in his eyes. "She got hit," he snapped before the woman could ask anything. "Far as I can tell, asshole slapped her, and she fell and hit her head. It bled bad, but it's slowed down now. Needs stitches." 

"How long has she been unconscious?" the nurse asked as two more came wheeling a bed toward them. She pulled a light from her pocket as he laid Slugger down gently and lifted one of her eyelids. 

Shane tore his eyes away and swallowed hard. He didn't like seeing her eyes sightless and blank. Even the blue seemed dull and faded. "I don't know. Twenty minutes? Thirty?" 

The nurse nodded. “And she is? And you are?” 

“I’m Shane, Shane Walsh. Officer, King County Sheriff’s Department. She’s Slugger. I mean, Ace- no, damn it. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his hand over his eyes before he realized her blood was on it, and tried not to notice how badly it was shaking. “Y/N. She’s Y/N Dixon.” 

“Ok. Any relation?” 

He scoffed. “No, we’re- we’re friends, that’s all.” 

“Ok. We need you to stay here, get some information from you, while we check her out. Take a breath, Officer Walsh, and maybe wash your hands,” the nurse said briskly, and wheeled her away. 

Shane stared after them, trying not to think about how pale Slugger’s face was. 

Saviors moved toward Maggie, reaching to take the stretcher from Abraham and Rick, and Shane's temper snapped and flared. 

"Hold the fuck up," he snarled, getting between one of them and Maggie. "We got it." 

The Savior's eyes went wide and annoyed, and Shane didn't fucking back down. He was going to take care of that woman, damn it. He'd promised- her, himself, Ace even though she wasn't here, Glenn- that he'd help her. He'd take care of her. He was damn well going to do it. 

"Sure. Sure," head asshole said, tone lordly. Victor granting a favor to the conquered, Shane thought bitterly. 

Turns out he didn't care all that much why. He just cared about grabbing the stretcher with Sasha and Aaron and helping lower it gently down. Rick caught his eye as he reached for Maggie, grabbing her shaking hand in his and holding on tight. 

He knew it in that moment. Rick had no idea what to do. 

And if Rick didn't know what to do, no one would. Shane was one hundred percent convinced of that, a lifetime of knowing that man backing him up there. He whispered to Maggie as he helped her sit up, hand under her elbow. "It's ok. We're gonna be ok, Rhee." 

Maggie didn't say anything, but her hand squeezed his as Rick took her other elbow and the two of them got her on her feet. Shane glared at the asshole, daring him to say something, say anything. Make any goddamn move, he begged. Just give him a chance. 

Of course, he didn't, watching them bring Maggie forward with his thumbs in his belt loops and that empty smile on his lips. They eased Maggie down, and Shane stayed right there at her side, while Rick looked wildly around for Carl. 

The head asshole stepped up as some of his flunkies drug Eugene over to join the others, his face bloody and bruised. The smile slid from the asshole's lips as Rick stared him down. 

"Gonna need you on your knees," he said casually. 

Shane watched Rick. He saw him want to fight; saw the objection in his face and his body language. Saw him look at Carl, at Sasha, at Aaron, at Abraham who hovered at Maggie's other side, all waiting for his cue. Don't do it, brother, he thought. This isn't the moment. This isn't even the end of the preliminaries, yet. 

Rick looked his way, and Shane shook his head. Rick's eyes had gone blank, but he nodded and went to his knees beside Shane like every moment hurt. Abraham dropped down where he stood. Slowly the others followed his lead, and the asshole with the empty eyes nodded. 

"Alright. Let's get the others- right now. Dwight!" 

Shane's heart had started to pound at 'lets get the others', but his head whipped up at the name. Dwight. The asshole Ace and Daryl had tried to help, who'd stolen his girl's gun and threatened her instead. 

Dwight, who'd shot Denise. 

"Yeah?" Some blond fucker, half his face burned and scarred, came out of the crowd. 

He had Daryl's goddamn crossbow again. 

"Chop, chop," the head asshole said irritably. 

Dwight grunted, glanced at them, and opened the back of a van. "Come on. You got people to meet." 

Shane closed his eyes in despair as Daryl, Michonne, Rosita, and Glenn were drug from the van. He opened them again when Glenn whispered 'Maggie?' in a horrified voice. Shane reached over to Maggie as she stifled a sob, and a Savior smacked him on the back of the head. Shane ignored that like he was, in general, ignoring everyone but the people on his slowly-growing kill list, and he held his breath to see if anyone else was coming out of the van.

Glenn was the last, and Dwight shoved his forward impatiently, snapping for him to get on his knees. He only had eyes for Maggie, and Shane couldn't even imagine what that was like for him right then. Maggie's face contorted in fear and worry and pain, tears already falling as she stared right back at Glenn like he was the only person who existed anymore for her.

Rosita and Michonne were pissed-off, but seemed unharmed. Daryl's face was pale, but there was blood smeared on his neck and his hands and rolling down his arm, and he had a blanket tossed around his shoulders. Dixon blue eyes could have started a goddamn fire on their own, so much anger sparked from them, but he narrowed them at Shane in a clear question. 

Shane shook his head, and Daryl looked relieved for a split second. Then he realized that meant no one knew where Ace and Merle were still, and the trapped-animal anger came rolling back into Daryl's Dixon blue eyes. 

"Alright!" Head asshole declared, satisfaction dripping from his words. Shane stopped trying to evaluate how bad Dixon was injured from the blood on his hands and his shirt and focused on the Savior surveying the row of Shane's captured family and friends. 

He chuckled and clapped his hands. "We got a full boat!" He flashed them that empty grin and tapped on the RV lightly. 

"Let's meet the man!"


	79. Lie #79: "I'm Watching Out For My Friend, That's All." - Shane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence  
canon typical violence  
major character death 
> 
> #NeganIsHERE

She was flirting with some asshole. 

Shane's eyes narrowed as he watched her flip the bottle absently in her hands. That smile was real. That laugh was, too, he thought. Shit. She was into this asshole.

He sipped his drink as she laughed again, head back and eyes dancing. The asshole leaned on the bar, propped on his elbows as he took up her time. 

"Hey, J." Shane waved his glass in her direction when Jason paused on his way from the kitchen. "Who the fuck is that?" 

Jason gave him a look, and Shane rolled his eyes. "She's flirting. She doesn't pick up customers. I'm watching out for my friend, that's all." 

"Sure," Jason muttered. "Picked you up, didn't she?" 

"And was that a normal thing?" 

Jason's head tilted and he shot a glare of his own down the bar. "Yeah, not really. That's fair. I don't know who it is, but I'll find out. Put the badge and gun away, Walsh. Or go ask her out yourself." 

Shane didn't dignify that with a response.

The RV door swung open. A man stepped out, baseball bat on his shoulder, smirk on his lips, and attitude rolling off him in goddamn waves. He took one step forward, surveyed the row of them without really meeting anyone's eyes, and grinned. 

"Pissin' our pants yet?" he asked. He strolled forward and Shane studied him while he had the chance. 

Leather jacket, scarf, gun at his waist. He walked like he was the shit and he knew it, too. The baseball bat had fucking barbed wire wrapped around it and Shane had a bad, bad feeling about that one. 

He also hated him instantly, but hell, that was bound to happen. This was Negan, he thought tiredly. And this was it. They'd run out of luck. 

"Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close." Negan eyed them, holding Shane's look for a minute. He huffed a breath, half-laughing, and Shane could have sworn that looked like approval before he clicked his tongue and turned away. "Yeah. It's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?" he asked, scanning again. "I'm betting that bastard, right there." 

Shane didn't blink when Negan pointed a gloved finger his way. 

"It's this one," the head asshole- who was apparently not the true head asshole- said, and Negan wandered over to stand in front of Shane and Rick. 

"Really?" he said slowly. "Huh. Well." He smiled. "Hi. You're Rick, right? I'm Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people! Not cool. Not. Cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But! I think you're going to be up to speed very shortly."

Shane sighed and held up his hands, one fist on the other palm. Rick snorted, but he counted down and threw out two fingers in scissors. 

Shane, who'd gone paper, groaned. "Damn it, Rick." 

"You're the one that's predictable, 22." 

"It's fuckin' hot out today," Shane grumbled, but he settled his hat on his head and opened the door reluctantly. "Why we stop this asshole again?" 

Rick shot him an amused look. "He was doing 75 in a 55." 

"Fuck. Fine. I'll be back." 

Shane walked up to the driver's window of the black Prius, idly wondering what gas mileage was like on that thing. Hybrid engine had to be good, right? He leaned into the window and the words already on his lips died as soon as he took a breath. He mentally rolled his eyes and smiled at the high as a kite idiot behind the wheel. "Hello. License and registration, please?" 

"What's the problem?" the idiot asked, handing them over.

Shane scanned, nodded, and stepped back. "Can you please step out of the vehicle, sir?" 

He heard Rick open the car door, and he figured his partner was coming to back him up, since Shane wasn't coming back to the car to write the idiot a ticket. 

"Why? What the fuck for?" 

Shane glanced back down at the license in his hands. "Well, you see, Mr… Mr. Smith. There's a couple of things you've got going on here that the State of Georgia tends to frown upon. For one, you were doing seventy five miles per hour in a clearly posted fifty-five mile an hour zone. For two, I can smell the pot on you from here, and that is still illegal in this lovely corner of the south we call home. And three, you just handed me a fake id. So, please. Step out of the vehicle so we can have us a little chat." 

The asshole rolled his eyes and Shane sighed. "Don't make this a thing, man. It's hot. I'm not in the mood. Just get out of the vehicle so I can do my job, alright?" 

Mr. Smith threw open his door and stepped out, and Shane nodded and gestured. "Thank you kindly. Now, if you can-" 

"Shane!" 

Rick's yell cut across the wash of adrenaline that started when he saw the gun in the asshole's hand. It came out of nowhere, and Shane reached for his as he saw it rise like it was in slow-motion. 

I'm going to die here, he thought clearly. On a routine traffic stop. Well, shit. 

He pulled his gun and started screaming at the asshole same as Rick. "Put it down! Put it down, now!" 

"Get back! Just let me get in my car and go, and we'll all live to see another day!" the asshole yelled. 

Shane shook his head. "Can't do that. You know it." 

"Yeah," Mr. Smith mumbled, face twisting. "I do." 

It happened so goddamn fast, it took three conversations with the department shrink, going over events with the review board, and a detailed discussion with Rick a few nights later for it to really become clear. 

The asshole's finger twitched on the trigger. Shane tossed himself to the side even as he fired. The bullet slammed into his chest, center mass, and Shane fell back, all the breath leaving his body. 

Three pops echoed, and Rick's frantic voice barely reached Shane over the ringing in his ears and the blood pounding in his head. Gasping for breath, Shane struggled to sit up as Rick came into view, gun still up and moving cautiously toward the asshole-

Who was down for the count, three rounds clustered over his heart. 

Rick kicked the gun away from the bastard's outstretched hand, whirled, and grabbed Shane's shoulders. "You ok? Brother, you hit? Talk to me, Shane." 

Well, Rick, he would, Shane thought caustically. If he could fucking breathe. He fumbled for his uniform, and Rick helped him get the buttons undone, batting Shane's shaking hands away. 

"I'm fine," Shane finally got out. "Vest took it. Can't fuckin' breathe, man. He dead?" 

Rick ripped open the Velcro on Shane's vest, checked to make sure the bullet hadn't penetrated it, and grabbed Shane in a rough hug. "Yeah. Holy shit," he muttered. 

Shane thumped him on the back. "Yeah. Nice shooting, partner." 

Rick sat down beside him and reached for his radio, calling in the death and 'officer fine'. Only then did Shane realize he'd been hearing dispatch yelling at him the whole time. 

"Holy shit, indeed," he muttered, and ran a hand through his hair. Holy shit, indeed.

Negan shook his head with a slight smile, eyeing Rick. "Yeah. You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes. Yes, you are." 

The smile spread, and Shane wondered if this prick was actually having fun, or if he practiced that look in the mirror. Negan shifted, eyes cutting to Shane's, and Shane stared straight ahead. Negan chuckled. 

"You see, Rick, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world order. The new world order is this, and it's really very simple. So even if you're stupid, which you very well may be, you can understand it," he declared, looking down into Rick's face. 

From the corner of his eye, Shane could tell how pale and panicked Rick was, and he was starting to wonder if maybe he should be that panicked as well. But to his other side, Maggie was trembling, barely able to hold herself on her knees. Daryl was bleeding and Shane didn't know how bad he was fucked up, and across the clearing, at the end of the row, Carl was watching Negan and Rick and Shane. 

And these bastards knew Slugger's tag. Shane didn't have the luxury of panicking right now. 

"You ready? Here goes. Pay attention." Negan swung his bat from his shoulder and pointed it at Rick's face, leaning down and speaking slowly and softly when Rick jerked back. "Give me your shit… Or I will kill you." 

He straightened back up with another face-splitting smile, and Shane realized the head asshole with the empty eyes was doing his best to copy this motherfucker. On the other man, it rang hollow and insane. On Negan, it was terrifying. 

"Today was career day." Negan began to walk the line of them again, gesturing with the bat as he spoke. "We invested a lot so that you would know who I am and what I can do. Someone asked me to make the lesson as painless as possible, so I hope it was. You work for me now. You have shit? You give it to me." Negan gestured to himself and turned to smile at Rick again. "It's that simple. That's your job." 

He sighed, waving one hand in the air as his face turned sympathetic. "Now, I know that is a might big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will. You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it."

Shane caught Carl's eye and willed the kid to keep his chin up. Carl swallowed hard and nodded slightly, and Shane turned his attention back to Negan as he wandered over to stand in front of Rick again while he gloated. 

"But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close." 

Yeah, Shane fucking knew that already. This bastard was show boating, and it was starting to piss Shane off. Maggie needed a goddamn doctor- hell, Daryl did too- and this prick needed to kill them or let them go before Shane did something reckless and rash, like Rick was always scared he would. 

"In fact, you are pegged. More pegged if you don't do what I want, and what I want? Is half your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later. This," Negan declared, spreading his arms wide, "is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So if someone knocks on your door, you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us?" 

He shoved the bat into Shane's face, expression pissed and hard. Shane didn't move or look at the bat, keeping his eyes unfocused on something just over Negan's shoulder. 

"We will knock it down. I like this one," he continued in a different tone, glancing over at Rick. "He's got spirit. What about you? I think maybe you're listening to the lesson a little better than your friend here is, and that's ok. That's good. You're the leader, right? This lesson is, for the most part, for you, Rick. So. You understand?" 

Rick didn't say anything, and Negan leaned forward, cupping his hand around his ear dramatically. "What? No answer?" 

He scoffed and looked wide-eyed at them all. "You don't really think that you were going to get through this without being punished, now did you?" 

Shane's eyes snapped back to his face, narrowing at the word punished. This was the point. This was where it got real, and cold washed through him as he tried to figure out just how bad it was going to be, and what exactly he could do to prevent it. 

"I don't wanna kill you people," Negan assured them, which wasn't actually very reassuring at all. "Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now can you? I'm not growing a garden." 

He paused, grinning at his own joke, and then resumed his pacing. "But, you killed my people. A whole damn lot of 'em. More than I'm comfortable with," he added, hand on his chest. He pointed at Rick as his voice went hard. "And for that, you've gotta pay. So now… I'm gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you."

"Alright, little man, you've got this!" Shane yelled, shading his eyes as Carl stepped up to the plate. 

Lori cheered beside him, her eyes pinched and worried when Shane looked her way. "Thanks for coming." 

Shane snorted. "Where the hell else would I be, Lor? Only other option is sitting in the hospital hoping Rick wakes up. I'd rather be here. Carl needs us both here. As normal as possible, right?" 

"Right," Lori said softly. 

Carl let the first pitch go by and Shane yelled some encouraging nonsense his way. Carl glanced over his shoulder, eyes scanning for Shane and Lori, and he waved to the kid. 

Carl beamed at him and turned back to focus on the pitcher. 

"I hate leaving him alone," Lori whispered. "But I hated the idea of being here alone more. They're relentless." 

Shane glanced where Lori nodded, scoffing and rolling his eyes at the parents gathered a few feet away and whispering. They were talking about Lor, he knew, and any minute now one of them was going to come over with that overly-concerned sympathy and ask a whole bunch of invasive questions. 

"I'll handle it if they come over here," Shane muttered, rage flashing through him. Carl let another ball go by and Shane clapped with everyone else. "That's it, little man! You got it! Waitin' for your pitch, like I taught you!" 

Carl shifted his grip on the bat, shuffled his feet, and rotated his neck. The pitcher threw again, Carl swung, and the crack of the bat hitting the ball echoed over the field. 

"Shit! Yes!" Shane yelled, exploding to his feet with Lori screaming her head off as well. Carl tossed the bat aside and took off running, and Shane turned to high five Lori when he slid into home. "That's it, Carl! Hell yeah!" 

Lori was smiling, even as tears spilled over her cheeks.

"This?" Negan spun his bat and slapped the wire-covered end lightly against his gloved palm. "This is Lucille. And she is… awesome." 

Shane's stomach churned, and the black tide of panic and rage he'd been holding back came crashing around his ears. Negan was going to kill one of them. One of his people, his family, his friends. He was going to smash someone's head in with that wire-wrapped monstrosity, and there was nothing Shane could do about it, was there? Not a damn thing except maybe, maybe volunteer to take the beating. 

Whatever it takes, Dickhead, he heard Ace plead in his ears. 

Shane knew he wouldn't volunteer, and he closed his eyes and swallowed as bile rose in his throat. 

"All this… all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor." Negan strolled along the line of Shane's friends and family, the line of people Shane might watch die today without even trying to save, and paused in front of Abraham. 

The red-haired asshole straightened and looked Negan dead in the eye, and the bastard bit his lip and smiled. "Huh." 

He ran a hand over his face and moved down the line a little. "Now, my wife, she had- she had a couple special requests for free passes, as it were. And as we are definitely settling into the honeymoon period here- it's been a bit of a rocky beginning, but I think we're going to do just fine together," he said with a smirk, tossing the bat up to grip it just under the wire. "I am- I am inclined to grant those requests. Happy wife, happy life, am I right?" 

He smirked at Rick, who stared back unblinking. Negan shrugged and spun the bat up to his shoulder. "On the other hand, I am not inclined to tell you just who they are. Where's the fun in that, right?" He ran his hand over his chin again and shook his head. "Man, I gotta shave this shit. My wife might have made that request, too. Actually!" 

Shane's heart dropped like lead as Negan spun, tone bright and an excited smile on his lips. 

"You might know her! My new wife, I mean. She certainly knows all of you! Now. Which one of you is… Dickhead?" 

Shane sat up abruptly, hand going to the side table where he kept his off-duty piece. A heartbeat later, the fact that he wasn't in his own house registered. 

"Shit," he muttered. He shoved his hand through his hair and pushed aside the nightmare. It happened on occassion, especially when he'd had a rough one, and last week certainly counted. That's how he'd ended up where he was, after all, hungover and sleeping in dress pants in a house that wasn't his. If nightmares became a regular thing, he'd see the shrink, but for now, he was more concerned about not waking up Slugger. 

"You ok?" 

Too late, he thought. 

"Yeah. Sorry, Slugger. Go back to sleep." He tossed back the covers and swung his legs out of bed. 

"Put my blankets back and I might," she mumbled. "You coming back?" 

He chuckled, brushing navy hair out of her face. She hummed a little and scooted down further into the blankets, and he pulled on her hair until her forehead wrinkled up in irritation. "Maybe. Might move to your couch, in case that asshole you're dating shows up." 

"Mal doesn't have a key, and also he's at Greg's with the band." She cracked one eye, groaned at the clock, and pulled the covers back up to her nose. "Go so you can come back. My toes are cold." 

He chuckled and bent over, kissing her forehead. "Just go back to sleep. I'll make you breakfast in bed." 

"Where have you been all my life, Dickhead?"

"King County." 

Shane stared, mind blank and blood roaring in his ears. He'd known. Of course he'd known; he wasn't an idiot. They knew her tag, which meant they had her. 

He hadn't expected that, though.

Negan's eyes found Shane's unerringly, and he wondered if Negan had known all along. He smiled, clicking his tongue as he pointed Shane's way. "I'm gonna bet good money it's you. Officer Walsh, I presume. Nice to meet you. I'm Negan. This is Lucille." 

"If you put a finger on my Slugger-"

"Slugger! Oh, now. I- I like that. Yes I do. Damn." Negan tapped Lucille thoughtfully against his hand, licking his lips and staring up into the night sky like he was thinking hard about something. "I like that a lot. It's cause of the punch, isn't it? She sure does pack some force in one. There's just one problem there, Shane-o. She is not your anything. Not anymore." 

Negan gestured with the bat, stabbing a finger at his own chest. "Mine. My Slugger, now. My wife. So. Sit your ass right there and shut the fuck up while I decide which one of you to kill. You- you are safe, by special request. Though I might decide to change my mind on that any minute, so do not test me on it. Ok? Good." 

Negan winked as Shane thought about killing him, slowly and painfully. His fists clenched together and he fought to keep himself still, to keep his eyes on the back of that prick's head and off Rick or Carl or Daryl. If he looked at any of them, Shane was going to go after the bat-carrying bastard, and get himself and probably all of them killed. 

He couldn't do that. Not now that he knew Negan not only had Ace in his clutches, but had decided she was his. His wife. Bullshit, Shane thought scornfully. Slugger- his Slugger, no matter what that fucking bastard had to say- would never. Shit, Slugger wouldn't even marry him. Not that he'd asked again, and he should have. Oh, god, he should have. 

No, this was like fucking Hall and that bastard Governor all over again, and Shane fought back black despair at how bad things had been for her after those two. This would be different. Hell, she was different. She was tougher, and more whole. She'd be ok, as long as Shane survived this and figured out how the fuck to get her out of there. 

Negan stopped in front of Carl and Shane stopped breathing. 

"You've got one of our guns." Negan dropped to a crouch when Carl tipped his head and narrowed his one eye, that stubborn-bastard look strong. "Oh yeah. You've got a lot of our guns. Shit, kid," he added after a beat. "Lighten up. At least cry a little." 

He chuckled as he rose, stuffing the gun into his belt and wandering back down the line. Shane let out a breath of relief that he was leaving Carl alone, but then the asshole winked at him and focused on Maggie. 

"Jesus! You look shitty," he said, and Shane went tense again. "I should just put you out of your misery right now!" 

He swung the bat and Shane shifted, ready to fling himself in front of Maggie. Fuck, he thought in despair. Sorry, Slugger. Can't let him do that. 

Glenn screamed at the same time, coming out of nowhere. He almost made it to Negan before Dwight took him down, landing a couple punches before Glenn was on the ground, Maggie crying out for him. 

Shane reached for Maggie's hand as Negan turned to look at Glenn in false surprise. "Nope!" he said sharply, scratching at his chin and swinging Lucille in one hand. "Nope. Get him back in line." 

Dwight drug Glenn, yelling the whole way, back to his place, and Glenn met Negan's eyes as he pleaded with him. "Don't. Don't!" 

The bastard smiled and laughed. Shane had a hand on Maggie's back, half protective and half supportive, and he glared holes into Negan as he started to pace again. 

"Alright, listen. Don't any of you do that again. That includes you, Shaney-boy. I see you trying to protect her. You might think you're a hero, but I can assure you- you are not. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment, I get that." Negan turned and looked at Shane, then over to Glenn, biting at his bottom lip again. "Sucks don't it? The moment you realize, you don't know shit."

Carl caught Shane's eye, looking ready to spring up and fight. He shook his head in warning, and Negan noticed the movement. He looked from Shane to Carl to Rick's wild eyes. He pointed the bat Carl's way, a cat got the canary smile spreading over his face. 

"This is your kid, right? This is definitely your kid!" 

Shane was worried about Carl. He should have been worried about Rick. 

"Just stop this!" Rick screamed it, the first spark of Rick Grimes fire Shane had seen since they were surrounded. He went tense, wondering if they were all about to go out in a blaze of glory or if Rick was going to do something equally dumb. 

"Hey!" Negan shouted, jabbing a finger Rick's way. "Do not make me kill the little future serial killer! Don't make it easy on me! I gotta pick somebody." 

He spread his hands like it wasn't his fault, and Shane wondered if he was fast enough to pull a Rick and rip out the bastard's throat. 

He wasn't, and he knew it. And Ace was somewhere, god knew where, and would probably pay the price if Shane fucked up here. 

"Everybody's at the table waiting for me to order," Negan said softly. He swung the bat around as he paced, whistling the same damn tune the Saviors had been whistling when they surrounded them. He chuckled, shaking his head. "I simply cannot decide." 

He wandered back toward the RV, surveying them all from a distance before a truly horrifying smile spread across his face. He bit his lip and spread his hands again. "I've got an idea." 

The bat pointed at Rick and Negan's face went cold. "Eenie. Meanie. Miney. Mo."

With every word, the bat pointed at someone else, and Shane might have been proud of the defiant glares if he didn't know one of these people he cared for was about to die. 

"Catch. A tiger. By. His toe. If. He hollers. Let him go. My mother. Told me. To pick the very. Best. One. And you. Are. It!" 

Shane's eyes closed, his hands clenching so tightly he could feel the blood oozing from his palms. 

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you're all gonna be doin' that." 

Shane forced himself to watch as the bat swung down. Even as it fell, he thought about throwing himself in front of it. 

But Ace was with these bastards, and Carl had been threatened. He couldn't do it. He didn't do it. 

Negan made a choice, he thought dully. And so did Shane.


	80. Truth #2: "There's Nothing I Wouldn't Do For You." - Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> references to child abuse/injuries

You moved like hurt to. Mostly because it did. 

Daryl dropped down onto the floor and started lacing your Converse up like you were an invalid, and you frowned at him. "I can do it, Darrie." 

"Don't call me Darrie. Ya move like it hurts to breathe, and you been starin' at your feet for five minutes," he snapped. He grabbed your ankle, adjusted the back of your shoe, and started tightening the second one up. "Ya fuckin' back's torn up. I know how hard carrying the backpack is. Should stay home. I'll make up some bullshit, get Merle to sign it for Will. Or you can do it; ya do his signature fine." 

You shook your head. "I can't. I've got a major art project due, and there's that history test today, and one day wouldn't do me any good anyway. It's gonna be weeks before it doesn't hurt to move. Might as well just deal with it." 

He sat back and rubbed his eyes, poking gingerly at the side of his face that was all kinds of black and blue. "Shouldn't'a done it." 

"Fuck that," you fired back pleasantly. "We've been over this. He would have killed you." 

"Naw. But he fuckin' tried to kill you, sis. You shouldn't have-" 

"I shouldn't have what? Tried to keep my brother alive? Fine, I should have just let you get beat or choked to death by your own father. That's some bullshit, Dar." You shoved angrily to your feet and scooped the backpack from your bed, tossing it over your shoulder absently. 

Pain sent white flashing over your vision and fire down your spine. You staggered, dropped the bag, and only Daryl catching you by the arms kept you upright. 

"Damn it, Ace!" 

"Shut up, Darrie! I'm fine!" You glared at him when you could see again, breathing deeply against the pain-induced nausea. Your look softened at the worry in his eyes, even with one of them practically swollen shut. 

You kissed his cheek. "I'm ok. It's fine." 

"It ain't worth it, sis," he said softly. "Merle'n'me, we can take the hits. Ya don't need to get yaself hurt for us." 

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You're my brother," you told him seriously. "I can take the hits too. And for you guys, I will. So just shut up about it and let's go to school, mmkay? Love you, even if you're doing that macho sexist bullshit again."

Daryl scoffed and slung your backpack over his shoulder with his own, even though you knew for a fact he was also injured. "Love you too. Even if ya bein' pointlessly self-sacrificing again." 

You were laughing as you stepped out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap on Last Choice Liars!
> 
> Please don't yell at me; I KNOW how it ended ok? I don't usually end so damn DARK, but... where the story takes me and all that. Part three is coming SOON, I promise. 
> 
> Thank you ALL OF YOU for reading so far, since at times getting this story out was almost as physically painful as it was emotionally. Anyway, I appreciate all the kudos, comments, and hits, and I can't wait to see you all again for Part Three!!! 
> 
> -XOXO, JustRamblinOn


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